Water Sports

There was no skid board.  You probably aren’t disappointed because you don’t know what a skid board is and that’s because I made it up.  It’s actually called a skim board, if you/Adam want/wants to get technical and precise with spelling.  I jumped the gun on the inventory list when I copied and pasted from the gumtree ad onto the last post.  There wasn’t a fishing gun or a football or a volleyball either.  But there was a harmonica and the snorkeling gear does work.  We did some casual snorkeling in the bay after Adam scrubbed the flippers and goggles and breathing tubes down to reduce our chances of getting hepatitis or worse.  After discovering that not being able to see past my arm in the murk of the deep end seemed to be leading toward a panic attack, I decided to hang out like a jelly fish in the shallow water where I could be sure there wouldn’t be any surprises between me and the ocean floor.  I was having a great time until I was blindsided by a herd of exercising athletes butterflying toward me at an alarming rate (imagine being chased by a blood-thirsty pack of seals).  Although the initial fear-paralyzing moments felt like a lifetime, I quickly transitioned from jellyfish mode to panic stricken escape-mode.  I made it to safety untrampled, eventually, but moving as fast as possible in knee-high water while hyperventilating out of a snorkel tube wearing flippers and foggy goggles is really unpleasant.  

Disinfecting