27 minutes

I have had a really tough week.  It has to do with several factors -- I started a new job, my little boy started  not one, but TWO new schools this week (kindergarten and an after-school program) and we're adapting to a totally new schedule.  On top of all that, some pretty major stuff got thrown into my face as it relates to my upcoming divorce settlement.  I mean major in a way that would make anyone who truly knows me and what I have been through in the last few years say, "NO, HE DID NOT...."

Yes, he did.

So I'm exhausted.  There is a part of me that is very thankful that my son is with his Daddy this weekend, because I'm SO exhausted in every way that I am glad I have a minute to catch my breath.  When I'm with Chatterbox, it's all about being strong and reassuring and letting him know that all is right with the world because Mommy will make it so.

I gave myself an hour this morning to be a lump on the couch and drink my coffee, but I had a ton of paperwork to gather in preparation for my response to the craziness that got unloaded on me this week.  I set a goal to be done with everything by 4ish so I could go to the pool and soak up some Vitamin D.  I once heard that the sun is the best anti-depressant.  And after the week I've had, nothing sounded better.

But, as it turns out, I was just finishing up at 5:15.  I was dressed in my bathing suit when I went to make some copies at the library, knowing that the pool doesn't close until 8.  I could still get my sun-time.

I drove up to the pool at 5:30, ready to enjoy my reward for an excruciating week and a Saturday that in no way resembled a day off.  As I walked up to the entrance, I noticed that the window was closed despite the fact that there were still some people at the pool.  Then I saw it - new hours posted as of August 15 reflecting a closing time of 6PM.

Oh, snap.

I can't really properly describe the extent of my disappointment.  I was looking forward to this all day.  Just a little bit of time to close my eyes, lay back, and let the sun melt away the stress of the week.  Is that too much to ask?

Apparently.

Well, I was just not having it.  They had some kind of nerve closing the front window with 30 minutes left until closing.  So, I decided, the HELL with this.

I'm going to the pool.  Today.  Even if it's just for 27 minutes.

The locker room door wasn't locked.  I walked in like I owned the place.  Barbie and Skipper, the lifeguards, were in there starting to Lysol the showers.  They were chatting about some adolescent nonsense, and on any other day, I might have thought it was sweet.  But they both made eye contact with me as I passed, and I could tell that they were about to caution me that closing time was right around the corner.

I very purposefully looked at one, then the other, and gave them the major stink-eye.  Don't even try it Barbie.  Skipper, I will take you down to Chinatown.  I am going to the pool today...I dare you to tell me not to come in.

They picked up on the not-so-subtle non-verbal cues.

I walked right to a lounger, plopped my stuff down, and immediately jumped in the pool.  One of my favorite things in the world is floating on my back in the cool water while the sun beats down on my face.  I am really good at floating.  And it's quiet when your ears are submerged in the water--my own little sensory deprivation chamber except for the sun illuminating the inside of my eyelids.

Then I got out of the pool and laid down on my towel draped across the lounger.  Every five minutes, some teenager would announce how many minutes were left until closing.  Every time I would hear it, I would smile....just  laying there in the sun, palms open to it, soaking it in, letting it burn away the pain of so much forced change on me and my son.  Sorry, Barbie and Skipper.  I am not leaving this chair until 6:00.

Finally, I forced myself into a sitting position to gather my things with the last of the stragglers.  As I walked out the side exit, I saw Barbie in the office, glaring at the few annoying people who were delaying her evening plans.

I smiled and winked at her, just for fun.

As it turns out, 27 minutes is just enough.