Milky Way redux

Right. Am a strong woman. Will reclaim athleticism and become master of morning swimming.

The pool was full of bugs. I got out the ridiculously long scoopie net and swished it around in the water. Thunked half a cup of dead corpses into the bushes and wondered idly how many calories would have been in them. Decided that my wake would wash the rest of the dead things off to the gutters, so leaped in and swam back and forth until my ears started hurting and I was forced to crawl out and lay sprawled on the deck. Spat out 3 gnats, picked my way over the wet grass like a cat, and up to my apartment for a shower. Peeled off my speedo and found a second layer of drowned gnats underneath, which set me off into a laughing fit that scared Po out of the litter box. And I feel bad about eating shrimp? I thought illogically. Dumped cocoa body wash over my head and washed away the lingering irritation of last night's banging-Mike's-head-against-floor dreams. Unfortunately, deliciously scented skin was sabotaged when a jar of curry powder leaped out of the cupboard, flung its contents all over me, and smashed itself on the floor. Damn it.

Sang in car on the way to work. "When the stars -- and the moon -- and the sky fall throooough, I'll throw it all awaaaay when I swallow! Deep as the seagulls!" I don't really understand Brandi Carlile, but I love her.

Man vs. Wild vindicated me last night, and I punched the air with a hoot. Sexy Unnessary-Goat-Eyeball-Eating Survival Man explained, up on a cliff, "An easy way to tell how long you've got is to put your hand up like this against the horizon, and every finger is 15 minutes. I've got one hand - two - and so that's about two hours until sunset." HA! I win! Pointlessly smug.