by admin on February 20, 2011

esme’s renewed shopping mojo has been derailed by an unexpected event:  the locker-room at her gym burned down, and with it, the contents of esme’s locker.  you might not think this would be such a big deal, but esme is a creature of habit (rather like a fox terrier).  she has had the same swimming/workout routine for countless years, and the need to switch gears has thrown her off-balance. 

on a normal day, esme rises earlyish, drinks a cup of very strong coffee with warm milk, eats a bowl of oatmeal with fruit and nuts, throws on the clothes she plans to wear for the day, and heads to the gym.  all her stuff (accumulated over several years) resides in her commodius locker, so that she never has to worry about forgetting her swimming suit, goggles, sweats, shampoo, rashguard, underwear, etc. etc.  there have even been a few occasions where she loaned her spare set of undergarments (clean) to an unfortunate soul who had forgotten hers that day. 

the locker-room provided towels, showers, lotions, and, perhaps most important of all, lots of opportunities for female bonding.  if you have been following esme since her debut, you will know that many is the post which grew from a locker-room discussion!  even esme’s beloved little pool has been closed permanently, replaced by a recently built pool which is bigger and more beautiful but just not the same!   coincident with the fire, esme has been attending physical therapy to rehab from a spine injury, and has been attempting to change her entire way of moving in the world, including her swimming stroke. 

so now she wakes up, has her coffee and oatmeal, and tries to figure out appropriate garb for going directly to the pool, and coming home apres swim. goggles, snorkel, rashguard, towels, change of clothing in tow, she checks twice to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything, and heads out in a mild state of anxiety.  she wears her swim suit (fortunately she had a spare) under a long sort of hooded tunic she bought at the gap years ago and almost gave away.  this way, emerging from the pool, she can slither out of the suit underneath the tunic the way the surfer-dudes do (why was this so much easier when she was 10?), and drive home in a glorious state of nudity beneath the soft sweat-shirty material of the tunic.

 arriving home, she must dry the suit and other equipment, wash the towels, shower, find someplace to hang all the stuff, and get ready to walk her fox terrier!  i imagine you are exhausted just hearing about it!

i think i’ll take a little nap now thank you,



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