A tall iced drink next to an ashtray perhaps, sweating into a doily.
A dish of ice cream. Or a bowl of pudding.
Some lovely glazed biscuits.
Is it tea time yet?
The problem with pools is the strong chemicals to keep them from reeking of body exudates from the teenagers and athletic types. And whatever that crap is that so many people smear in their armpits with gay abandon and spatulas, or spray thickly on their coiffures.
Plus spilled drinks, and mildew from the last time they wore that swimsuit.
Whereas linen clothes, rattan furniture, drawn blinds, effective airconditioning .....
You can smoke a pipe or read a mystery novel while there.
Oh hey, cucumber sandwiches!
They spent all afternoon steeping in the turbid waters, dropping their cigarette ashes into the swirling foam, while little kiddies screamed and hollered. Now they quietly feed the insatiable hunger of one-arm bandits. Who brings their kids to Vegas? And why? Do they plan to sell them into slavery at the meat packing plant? Find them a position in the circus?
Good lord, why is this dog paddling around in the swimming pool?
Pipes, A tin of tobaco, cups of tea, and a good book.
Plus airconditioning and electric fans.
That's the ticket.
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2 comments:
Inclined to agree. Right now I am lounging on a bed, with a ceiling fan on and cool air softly filtering into the room as temperature outside slowly approaches 82 deg F. It will be closer to 90 come 4pm. My avoidance from pools in general stems from the fact that I am fair skinned and as an older adult now, rather out of shape and would prefer to keep a shirt on. Plus, as you mentioned…chemicals. No thanks.
Friday was painful. The combination of shitty circulation and the body seeking to send blood to the surface to increase the cooling effect does not combine well with hardened arteries. Coupled wit bloodpressure medication doing what it's supposed to do damn all comers makes the legs and upper back hurt like you would't believe. There are various other things that come into play -- a defective aircon unit at work which we're not supposed to ue any more -- and by the time I stumble out of there on superhot days I would kill widows and orphans if I could. I am a pleasant man at mid seventies. Anything over eighty and I am sour, bitter psychopath.
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