T minus 17 days.     Swimming day.

First day at the town outdoor public pool.  New pool, new routine.  Figure out where to go.  Make it to  the designated adult swim lanes.  Ok, this is fine....nice big pool, nice big lane....all set.  Ease myself into the water.  Psych myself up.  I know what I have to do.  Big deep breath and I'm off.    Swimming, swimming, swimming.  Swimming down the lane.  Swimming back up.  Swimming down the lane.  Swimming back up.  It is when I turn to swim back down the lane that I realize I am not alone.   There is another swimmer in my lane.   I have never swum with anyone in my lane before.  It's my lane.  I try to be unfazed by this new development but it causes me great concern. I am suddenly aware of my flailing arms and legs and the fact that I will now have to try to contain them in some fashion.   This is no easy feat.    My breathing starts to intensify with the sheer effort of trying to stay on my side. I am halfway through this new form of water torture when my lane-mate taps me on the shoulder.  What the heck??  I stop, stand up and see that  she is speaking to me.  "We're going to swim in circles."  Ok, I have suction cups on my eyes and water in both my ears so my senses are off.  I must have heard wrong.  "We're going to swim in circles, "  she repeats, circling with her hands.   She did say that.  I pry the suction cups off my eyes and look her.  And her circling  hands.  Except they are not hands, they are flippers.  She has flipper hands.   And flipper feet.  A merwoman.  A merwoman  is telling me that I  have to swim in circles.  What is happening here?   I am fatigued, breathing hard, and confused.    Listen, flipper girl, I have no idea who you are, where you came from  or why you are wearing so many swimming devices  but I am still trying to master the art of swimming in a straight line.  I do not want to swim in a circle, rectangle, trapezoid or any other pattern that your whim may dictate.  Even if I did, I would not be able to keep up with you as you are wearing twelve pounds of rubber webbing and I have only my God-given hands and feet.

Public swim is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you're going to get.