And That Brings Us Back to Pee
Continuing our enchanted week of wonder, we were in the emergency room with Eli 3.3 this morning at 4:30 a.m.The only thing I've ever wanted to hear at 4:30 a.m. is "Would you like some fries with that?" This morning, though, I delighted in the minutia of urinary tract infections.
We're having a nervous breakdown. As a family.
Eli is going to be just fine, and I think he'll enjoy visiting us in the mental hospital, which is clearly where we're headed, because we're both totally exhausted and stressed out. In spite of that, though, today I went swimming and busted my ass for the entire mile, beyond all reason. I may be having a nervous breakdown, but that doesn't mean I can't maintain my fitness level.
As I was swimming (freestyle--three strokes to a breath), this is what I heard (presented in Dynamic--Swim-Surround-Vision©):
(stroke)
(stroke)
(stroke)
(breath)
(stroke)
(stroke)
(stroke)
(breath) A female deer
(stroke)
(stroke)
(stroke)
(breath) A needle pulling
(stroke)
(stroke)
(stroke)
(breath) Of golden sun
(stroke)
(stroke)
(stroke)
(breath) With jam and
It takes a few laps, but I eventually figure out that I'm hearing (or hallucinating) "Doe, a Deer." Do they sing that in heaven? And if they do, should it be so off-key?
If I'm dead, why do I still have to swim laps? That's what will be on my headstone: Deceased, but still worrying about his VO2 max.
I'm afraid to stop swimming and take a look, because if I see purple unicorns doing karaoke, I'm not sure what I'll do. Actually, I know what I'll do--I'll desperately hope that they don't start singing "Her name is Rio."
After a mile, though, I can't go on. I've slowed down so much that a freshwater shrimp passed me twice in the last hundred yards. I stand up, take off my goggles, and I still hear singing. It appears to be coming from a group of seals at the end of the pool. I put on my glasses and realize, much to my disappointment, that seals are not singing. Instead, it appears to be the 70+ Granny Water-robics class, who are belting out 'Doe, a Deer' with an enthusiasm usually reserved for Irish drinking songs.
On the positive side, though, there was no fish smell.
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