The neighbors behind us have put their house on the market – it is empty, except for a few curated items. Open houses and such have been plotted, there’s obviously a realtor…. but there’s also a pool. A small, resistance pool, but a pool nonetheless. Like, you know, 20 feet from my bedroom patio. It’s right there – and I finally have a swimsuit that fits correctly. I want to go over there so much, and just be the worst neighbor ever, by soaking, quietly in that empty pool.
There’s that one part of my brain that is saying that I can totally be BOLD and ADVENTUROUS, and no one is really going to question a middle aged woman, ducking into a backyard in a swimsuit. Heck, that street gets so much traffic, it’s unlikely that anyone would notice a giraffe wandering aimlessly through the trees. It’s totally do-able; and if the gates are locked, I could use the step ladder and go over the fence – right?
The slightly more stable and logical part of my brain (possibly the “good” angel) has reminded me that I’d be really upset if someone took advantage of MY property that way, even if they didn’t damage it. I think about how rude, irresponsible and selfish it would be – to say nothing of the possible embarrassment of being caught on a security camera or fined for trespassing. But damned if that pool isn’t calling me….
I know better. I’ve looked it up – most of the city pools around me have already closed (!) and I’m just not 100% sure I want to haul myself to a more public place where being my size is a liability and opens me to mockery. I want to go someplace that isn’t crowded or crammed with either screaming children, or beautiful people. I don’t want to go to a heavily chlorinated indoor pool. I want to be refreshed somehow.
I hate wearing sunscreen. I hate getting a sunburn even more. I just washed my blasted hair, which means that I’d have to rinse off before getting into a public pool, find a place to stash my keys and my epi-pen (which is a bit of a challenge because they have temperature limits, but you know bees and pools…) I don’t want to be around people, just around water for a bit. You know how it can be.
I’m owning up here – I have a filthy headache which is once again trying to become a migraine. This doesn’t make things shiny. My daughter texted me fifty-four times in forty minutes. “What do I want to do while I’m there; she can’t be my guide; if I’m cooking, she needs to know what to buy; she can’t handle this; what do I mean I’m meeting a friend; Grandson will be cranky.” Holy snot, guys… It was a damned barrage of stress. I really don’t need that at this particular moment in my history, when I’m going up to help her out at least once a month while her husband is off doing his job; I’m trying to cover dog sitting for my sister, so she doesn’t have to pay for help while she’s covering Mom’s utilities, and we’re still working the job thing out. I just want to let water carry me around and suck all the stress right off of me.
I suppose I could try and contact the soon-to-be former neighbors and ask politely for use of their pool – but that likely opens up some issues for other neighbors or people who may not be as respectful of personal property. I don’t want to have a kegger – I want the anti-kegger, if there is such a thing. Is there? Isolation tanks are right out of my financial grasp right now – at $75 a pop? That’s like seeing my therapist pricey, and again – who knows how clean the water really is? Gah!
I’ve talked to my husband about the possibility of going to the lake – just go out to one of the free public access points while most people are at work and it would be peaceful. He has declined – muttering about how far it is (20 min) and how hard it is to park, and then there’s the actually getting into the water… He’s not helping, to put a fine edge on it, and I’m just socially awkward enough to want someone to go with me. Someone to keep me from making the astonishing gaffes I’m known for*, someone to guide me a bit.
There is so much tension in uncertainty. I don’t like it. I don’t like that my husband and I are both trying to prop each other up, as we both slip a little more into depression, I don’t like that my mother has made such a damned victim of herself, and I damned well don’t like being called upon to compensate for her shortcomings. I’m sorry – did we not have the lesson on accountability? The timing on this is crap – September is usually my low month, when I just feel the most depression. Ironic, as it’s the kick off to my favorite time of year, but there you go – it’s when the stress starts kicking me in the teeth. And this is before we start the finagling of holiday nonsense, and who is doing what for whom and where is that money going to come from?
I’m so lucky. I have food, a roof over my head, amazing people in my life, more pets than I likely should, an abundance of books… I have clean water, and we have a car, and there is some medical insurance going on. It’s not all a disaster. I really want a break from all the games, the attention grabbing, and the discomfort, and float until my muscles stop aching and I feel cleansed of stress. Is that too much to ask?
*Like attending the funeral for a friend’s mother and not knowing “the passing of the peace” I just said “It’ll all be cool.” Or stating that I hoped “the body” wouldn’t be present at a funeral as we walked in – to find the mother of the honoree(?) standing over the open casket. Foot, meet mouth.