My arms…

…are like lead.

In my newly acquired time due to having kicked my book out of the house, I am doing things for myself. Like watching what I eat. And swimming.

The hard part is I don’t swim.

I get out there in the pool any time the water reaches 80 degrees or above and I paddle around for all I’m worth. I’m sure, one of these days, the neighbor will peer from their window and see me out there struggling to keep my head above water and laugh their head off. Partly because I paddle around with a pool noodle under my arms to guarantee I keep my head above water.

I’m not a fan of having water in places it shouldn’t be, for instance – in my eyes, in my mouth, up my nose, or in my ears. Generally I am of the opinion that water (pool water, specifically) does not belong on my face. I would prefer it stay at clavicle or below, but there is some leeway there. Today I was tiptoeing around with my trusty pool noodle to see if there was anywhere in the pool I couldn’t touch the bottom. In the very deepest spot if I stand on the tips of my toes, the water touches my chin. I can live with that – but I certainly prefer to hold onto my trusty pool noodle. (It’s blue.)

Yes, my parents made sure I had swim lessons when I was wee (or knee high to a grasshopper, as I like to say) but I simply never took to it. I tell everyone that I sink like a rock which, I’ve discovered, isn’t actually true. I float quite well. My head doesn’t. And that’s unfortunate. Water gets on my face and I panic. Total, flopping around, water going everywhere, panic. Uncontrollable panic. The dangerous kind of panic.

I was home alone for a bit this afternoon so I paddled. And paddled. And paddled… I did about 45 minutes of paddling. Sometimes it was very earnest, and sometimes it was just enough to get to the other end of the pool (it’s not a large pool). Either way, I’m glad I don’t have to lie to my doctor when she asks “Are you exercising?”. I can honestly say “Yes! Here, feel mah muscles!”.

Before you ask, no, neither editor cat one nor two will get in the pool. I’ve heard of cats that swim, surf, ride Roombas while wearing shark costumes… neither of mine are so talented. Next time I pick a kitten I will make sure to take a Roomba and a kiddie pool to the shelter.

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