OC would tell you that there aren’t any herring in our pool, red or otherwise. Don’t you believe it. He put them there himself.
The temperature in the swimming pool of our condo complex is about 70F. Most of you probably think that is perfectly warm enough for comfortable swimming. In fact, OC claims it is luxuriously warm compared to anything he might find in the far north of northern Maine. All that is well and fine for him, but keep in mind that I have spent the last 10 years in Vegas, where daytime temperatures average 110F and the pool usually stays a lovely 84 degrees. This pool is cold.
I stepped onto the top step. Water shivered around my ankles and I shot right back out. OC swam across the pool and back. “Come on in, dear. The water is fine.” Yeah, right. Maybe for penguins and polar bears, but not for palm trees and road runners. I refused to get into the pool.
OC cajoled to no avail — then he tried logic. My foot had been hurting so I’d been very sedentary. He pointed out that the swimming would be a good way to get exercise without putting undue stress on my arch. I still eyed the water askance. Then he promised that if I got in and swam a few laps, we could warm up in the jacuzzi after. The jacuzzi sounded inviting.
I got into the pool. I swam my laps — although as I made my first one I told OC I’d be Titanic frozen before I reached the other side. He said if one couldn’t walk on the water then it wasn’t truly cold. Pft.
After finishing my laps I ran shivering for my towel, snatched up my shoes and rushed to the upper terrace where the jacuzzi — was full of teenage kids. Full. That’s when I glanced back at OC. I swear he was tossing bread crumbs into the pool to feed his red herrings.