Sunday Things

"Swimming on Sunday?" Kathy asked me.

"You bet," I said.

"Will you call me or will I call you?" She asked. I shrugged. "Right," she said, "whatever."

This morning, I didn't feel like going swimming. There was no way I was going to call Kathy. But at noon, the phone rang. "Wanna go swimming?"

"You bet," I said.

Twenty minutes later, on the way to the pool, Kathy says, "You didn't want to go swimming today, did you?"

"Nope," I said. "Not at all."

"Me too," she said. "I told Roy I'd call you, but if you said you didn't want to go, I wouldn't go either. It's lucky we have each other or we'd never swim."

"It's true," I said, "but even now if you said, let's just go to the Pho 99, I'd be all for it."

"Roy wants to join us at the Pho."

"Damn. That means we have to go swimming first."

That's the thing about swimming. The hardest part is getting to the pool.

Back at home, I did some stuff with lightbulbs and made a gesture at organizing. Here you see a clear bag, filled with clear plastic. I don't know what I'm going to use the clear plastic for, but I have a strong feeling it will come in handy for something. The bag is one of those zippered ones that bedding and pillows come in. I love these bags. (I mention this in case you wanted to give me a present.)