- The weather outside is frightful
- the pool is so delightful
- my roommate has a penchant for watching Fox News at a really loud volume because he enjoys feeling rage
- I don't enjoy feeling rage
Anyway, the city can't drain the pool to clean it like they used to because of the endangered salamanders downstream. Add to that all the run-off from the chemically fertilized St. Augustine. The end result--bingo! Happy algae. Really happy.
Every time I swim there, I have to paddle the bobbing algae blobules out of my way, and yes, the pool just isn't as pristine as it was, but it's still pretty damn nice and colder than a witch's teat, since we're about to be on the topic.
I freeze myself, catch a few laps, drive home and get in my jammies for a too-short night's sleep. Inevitably, as I get ready for bed, I discover I've captured a blobule between my bathing suit and my boobs. It lies there squished sadly like a giant green third nipple. (I am happy to say I have two to start with and they're neither terribly giant nor green, so the newcomer is always obvious.)
I fear, someday, that I will be tempted to create a green nipple shooter health smoothie. Not today, though. Not today.
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