So my boyfriend and I had the ingenious idea of buying inflatable pool floaties and just being lazy on the water all day yesterday. It was pretty much the best idea we’ve had yet, and we’ve had some good ones, so you know this one must have been awesome, but only because I’m telling you it was awesome, because you weren’t even there, so what the fuck do you know about anything?
With our styrofoam cooler floating in the water next to us- stocked with snacks and delicious adult beverages, of course (beers for him, fruity mixed drinks for me)- pretty good weather and a quiet, secluded spot in the water, we couldn’t have asked for a better setup. And even when we realized hey, we’ve drifted pretty far away from the beach and into open water, I really didn’t seem to care that we probably wouldn’t make it back alive. I had the sun, the sea and my man, what else did I need? Who really cared if we drowned, right?
Wrong. Apparently I cared if we drowned. A few storm clouds started to move in and it started to rain lightly (but even then I was still unfazed by our predicament). Once darker clouds started rolling in, though, and the water started to get choppy, and I realized I wasn’t making any headway trying to paddle myself back to shore, I started to freak out a little internally, but only because I almost washed away to sea once. Perfectly legitimate reason to be scared, right?
Now I suppose this is the part where I tell that story, huh?
One time I was on a sailboat with my dad and a few friends. And we anchored so we could swim and I jumped in and my friend jumped in and we started floating away because we couldn’t fight the current back to the boat, so my dad had to jump in with a rope and save us. And our life preserver/buoy/rafts drifted away into the abyss, never to be seen again (probably picked up by the Coast Guard). The end.
I’m not really even sure where this post was going in the first place (not like I ever really have a direction that makes sense when I’m blogging, anyway). But basically the moral of the story is that in the future, my boyfriend and I need to keep ourselves beached if we’re planning on floating aimlessly (or invest in a tiny baby anchor). Although it really doesn’t matter at the end of the day, because the water was probably only chest deep, but I’d rather drown than put my feet down in those nasty, murky, weedy, mushy waters.
And to make this post even more useless and irrelevant, because I didn’t even get a picture of either one of us doing the lazy float thing (because let’s face it, who has time for selfies when you’re busy being lazy and float-y?), here’s a picture of a dog being lazy instead: