Hairball Drowning Incident
Can someone remind me why I thought accountancy would be such a good wheeze? I feel like a gerbil trapped in a wheel, spinning it relentlessly from month end to month end. My days seem to be an endless cycle of prepare for month end, month end, recover from month end, prepare for month end, month end, recover from month end…… I’m going to blink one day and find myself aged 65.
At least now that I’ve recovered from my cold, I can break free a bit in the evening and run home again.
I joined the gym just before Christmas. My intention was to use the weights for a bit of serious muscle building but I got scared off by the hoards of inflated popeyes that preen on the mats. Having paid for 6 months in advance I’ve had to find some use for the place. Not much point using the treadmills, so that leaves me with the pool. I am now swimming and then running home and will therefore be a wafer thin racing whippet in no time!
I’ve forgotten all my immersion technique prowess of last year and am back to floundering. Managed a bit of a desperate sinking doggy paddle today as well. I have a near phobia of unattached hairs, a bit of an occupational hazard in communal showering/swimming areas, and every time I swim I go through a period when I feel sure that a hairball is just grazing my lips.
Immediately I flip onto my back, clawing frenziedly at my mouth. Then begins the death roll and flailing that invariably propels me to the bottom of the pool.
Soon enough I bob back up, decide I was probably thrown into a panic by a stray bubble and wonder why all the life guards seem to have sprung into action.
40 lengths today – enough to leave me roaring with hunger. What is it with swimming, I always come out of the pool feeling as though someone whipped out my stomach?
