Work day for me. Half day really. Okay, closer to a couple hours.
During which Happy Wife went to snorkel among the sea turtles. She says there’s a cleaning station a few hundred feet down the beach from our condo, a quiet bay where the turtles congregate in order that little fish will preen the detritus from their carapaces. An example of perfect commensalism, isn’t it? No, it is not. Commensalism means an activity where one species benefits and the other is unaffected. Here, both fish and turtle benefit, the former is nourished by the detritus, the latter rid of it. I know of no such symbiotic relationship between a human and another species. Do I stand in the shower whilst little thingies preen my nooks ‘n crannies of a day’s dirt? No, this is why we have soap ‘n water.
Happy Wife’s boo boo knee has not gotten worse, and acutely feels problem free. And the weather? Blustery for sure, but the clouds were sequestered in the high country and we were pleased by this:
You see people on the beach. You got your doughy white Midwesterners who’ve just arrived at the hotel, rush onto the beach in musty beachwear unworn since last year, look at the sun and the sand and the sea and try to absorb it all at once. They are happy, eager, innocent, and can’t wait to get vacation started.
And then there are the creepy ones.
Yesterday at the beach two dudes of suspicious intention, both chain smoking cigarettes, plopped down near us. One was a doughy-white endomorph wearing a toupee — for the life of me I don’t know how it stayed on his head without a chin strap in that wind. Then two young girls appeared, much younger than the endomorph or his buddy, wearing itsy bitsy bikinis, giggling and carrying on as young girls do, waiting for the endomorph to supply them with a lit cigarette. So supplied they flitted past us down the beach, tittering and waving the cigarettes as if they were their first, all the while the endomoprh eying their every step behind dark sunglasses with disquieting interest.
I don’t know, it might have been nothing, and probably was, but all the same kinda creepy.
Later, we shared a pizza and a bottle of red at Honu, where Happy Wife was lucky to get leid (sic):
No, I haven’t put on weight, it’s the loose-fitting nature of the shirt! Like the Seinfield episode where George is caught naked in front of his girlfriend experiencing “Shrinkage” — The water was cold! The water was cold!