So I coughed up money I don't have and joined the pool at the subdivision behind ours. We've gone three times now. One and a half times we actually got to swim. Seems Jenna and I are human lightning rods, and whenever we get a tinsy bit close to the pool, the skies open up with a light show of magnificent proportions.
But yesterday we got to swim some, play sharks and minows, play Marco Polo, and all day I remember how very much I love the water. When I'm in the water, I don't see any reason why I should ever have to get out. The feeling amazes me anew every single time.
I imagine great channels of water running parallel to the highways and biways of Atlanta, more like water slides than roads, and I imagine going everywhere by scooting along my magical blue highway. I imagine towel stops instead of traffic lights. I see entrance ramps welcoming dozens of happy travelers onto my watery route.
It would solve traffic congestion, wouldn't it? Forget busses and MARTA. I want to lobby for great lanes of water, and inner tubes for all. Five months of the year, everyone would be more tan, more fit, more relaxed, if not a bit wet, in their comings and goings to work.
I imagine walking wet headed and sunburned into my next client meeting, ten minutes late, with a smile, saying "The current was against me today--sorry," and everyone understanding, them wet headed drinking bottled water, ruddy and beaming, "Yah, a wild ride today."
No more road rage, just giggles and tumbles and swirls as we float our way through the day.
And why not?