One of the few pleasures I have when I’m down here in Florida is swimming in the pool. It’s not exactly Olympic-sized, but it’s convenient, refreshing and situated right on the Intracoastal. And as any care-giver worth their salt can tell you, finding the time for regular exercise is especially important.
Today, after I finished up with Mom, she was settling in for an afternoon nap, and I went down to the pool to get my refreshing cardio. Upon arrival, a fellow in a maintenance uniform was opening an industrial-sized barrel of chemicals. I figured he was doing regular pool up-keep. As I walked toward an umbrella table to put down my things, the pool guy looks up at me and tells me I can’t swim. “Somebody pooped.” He went on to inform me that he was going to put an extra heavy dose of chemicals in the pool and that there would be no swimming for another 2-3 days. Just in time for our departure.
Not to be thwarted by such a disgusting event, I went back upstairs, changed my clothes and went to the Hollywood Beach Boardwalk to walk its length. I saw sailboats on the Atlantic. I observed the changes to the local bistros, parks and hotels.
Tomorrow, I think I’ll rent a bike (weather permitting).
When I got back, Mom had gone through her clothes; she’s pared down the cache of winter clothes she wants to bring back north. Progress is being made.
We’re both a little tired now, but at least we’re not totally pooped.