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Choosing Figs | Neurotic as Hell | A Travel, Lifestyle, and Life List Blog

Swimming in Circles

When I was a kid I had an indoor pool. I kept it in my room although my parents disapproved. It was one of those kiddie pool blow-up inflatable things that was blue and clear and had pictures of cartoon fish. It cost only two dollars at the K-Mart (or maybe the Venture, remember the black and white zebra stripes?) I inflated it and kept it on the paint-stained hardwood floors of my bedroom. I just liked being able to tell people that we had an indoor pool.

To fill it up I had to take a pitcher of water into the bathroom across the hall and fill that up and dump one pitchers worth of water into the pool at a time. It took too many trips. I’d put on a bathing suit and slosh around in it, or sit with my feet in it as I watched out my window to see if the guy that I liked who lived around the block was walking his dog or going to the library. The water only went up to my ankles. After some time (not too long of a time) the water would grow green and white toppings, thick lace that would coat the surface. Bugs would swarm around the top and die on the surface. I could no longer put my feet into the pool without growing a layer of film on my toes.

To empty the pool I had to scoop up a pitchers worth of water and carry it to my bathroom and dump it out into the bathtub. It took too many trips. I’d then have to scrub the pool down and bring back pitchers worth of fresh water.

Eventually (after not too long of a time) I grew tired of this little ritual and let the pool fester up more green and white and insects until I finally dumped it away for good and could now only tell people that I used to have an indoor pool.

I forgot something from the wine bar the other night. JoeJoe, while taking me home, came to the circle aka 8-corners aka a roundabout (as only mapquest calls it). “What, are we in Europe?” Joe said. He then decided to take two laps around it. I’m surprised that he is the first person I know to have ever done this when coming to it for the first time. Points to him too for not using his turn signal. Only outsiders use their turn signal at 8-corners.

Oh, plus “I’m afraid to get into cars.” Hehe.

I read Fight Club yesterday, all in one sitting minus a couple breaks to do laundry. It was a good book although it probably would have been better if I had not seen the movie before. I actually slept through the movie twice before, before ever actually seeing it years later.

I now want to read the bible. Not for religious awakening or anything mind you. I just feel that I should know the work as a writer or something like that. Especially since my novel probably has a lot of religious undertones (immaculate conception, etc.) I dug out my mom’s old old one from 1953. I love it because it has a great Catholic encyclopedia that has crazy definitions for everything. For instance:

Obsession: The state of one who suffers more or less continual molestation or even actual possession by the Devil.

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