After weeks of humming and hawing over whether the pool water’s temperature was warm enough to swim in, I said “To hell with it!” It is 30 degrees Celsius outside and ridonkulously humid (think: Cuba). Tony was in the house with Sacha, and I was checking the pool temperature (for the millionth time). It read 20 (Celsius, which I think is around 70 Fahrenheit). That’s around room temperature, right? Since there is no one behind our house, and our neighbours were inside basking in their air conditioned glory, I stripped off my skirt and dove in wearing my halter top and G-string.
First reaction: F*CK it’s cold! All milk reserves must be frozen!
30 seconds later: Should put my head under. That will even out the cold.
1 minute later: It’s so nice in here! Should take off my halter. Is Lynn (neighbour) outside? Nope.
2 minutes later: Taking off a wet halter while submersed in water is not easy. Must plan ahead next time.
5 laps later: Could really use a cold cooler or margarita.
10 minutes later:
Tony: Sarah! I have to go back to work! What are you doing out there?
Me (to myself) : Well, I’m NOT skinny dipping, that’s for sure…
Me (shouting): Can you bring me a towel?
Tony emerges from the house with S and a towel: You’re swimming? Is it ok in there?
I exit the pool, and he sees my (basically) bare bum and extremely wet halter top.
Tony: WOW. I can see right through your shirt! The areola and everything!
Me: Thanks for that. (Because I didn’t already know that wet T-shirts were see-through.)
30 minutes later:
Blogging about pool while not actually in pool because a flash thunder/rain storm set in. Stupid weather.