I was looking forward to the pool all day and I get in only to be told that I need to get out. I told you to come at 5:30, Nick says. Um, no, you didn't. You told me to stay in one lane to the side. I sent a text message to Katie, he continues. But you didn't send one to me. I, reluctantly, climbed out of the pool. I was hot because I could have come later or brought some reading material, yarn, knitting needles or something.
I sat in the wire cage -- kind of like a baseball dugout with barb wire, watched the sun hit the water and looked at the permanent scowl of the coach from the MO School for the Blind who was on Michael's case as usual and, today, he was Michael. Last week, he was Mikey. Michael, why did you stop? Michael, get out of the pool. Michael, I'm going to take you to an all-deep pool and if you stop, you'll sink. I couldn't believe that he was threatening the kid with the deep end. I so hoped the Mikey would hit a water home run.
At 5:30, I had the pool to myself for about five minutes. Then, the front crawler appeared quickly followed by ten kids. Only one toddler was accompanied by a parent and there was complete bedlam as Nick tried to provide instruction for them all. The second lifeguard even had the nerve to leave and I'm sure that there was some violation of lifeguard to child ratio.
Despite the false start, I managed to get in 17 laps in 45 minutes but Monday at the pool was like Monday in general -- chaotic and draining.