That is my table

I speak in hyperbole, sarcasm, gross over exagerration and self deprecation.  It’s my way of making light of the madness of my reality.

When I say that I live at the pool though I mean that – quite literally.  We are there 7 days a week, most evenings for 3 hours at a time.  My kids bathroom hasn’t been used in months, all their showers are taken at the pool.  It’s not like they would use it anyways, for some reason everyone likes to congregate in our bathroom.  I don’t get it.  But that isn’t the point either.

I consider myself the “Norm” of our pool.  I have a table.  It is mine.  My favorite table is the first one as you walk in the door.  I picked it because I am lazy.  This table is the first one I pass on my way in, I wouldn’t want to tax myself too much walking to table #2 and heaven forbid I walk the extra 20 feet to table #5.  No, I am happy with my front and center table.

I am not a table bully.  I happen to be a chronically early person.  This promptness as I like to call it is a OCD of sorts.  May be the only one I have but it is mine and I own it.  Many hours of my life have been waisted waiting for things to start.  I am good with that.  Being late is too stressful.  As a result of my “promptness” I am usually the first mom at the pool.  Claiming my table is easy, I simply plop my handbag and magazines down and I own myself a piece of prime real estate.  (Did I mention there is a power outlet right behind my table?)

Imagine my shock when I walked in the other day and there sat a man.  With two of his children.  Did he miss the memo?  I sat there 7 days a week for a year buddy.  Get up.

Any confrontation that I have with other people is in my head.  Yeah, I am a wimp. Even my imaginary confrontation makes we want to cry.  Not my thing.  Besides, it isn’t really my table and no, I don’t really “live” at the pool.  It just feels that way.

THIS is what I get for doing a drive by drop off and going to the store for one stupid loaf of bread.  The end result – I had to sit on a couch.  It wasn’t very comfy. My kids thought I was watching practice as the couches face the pool.  And there were no seats available for my friends.  It was torture.  I also realized that “the people of the couches” talk about swimming.  Torure.  No one had the new Nordstrom catalog.

I am heading over early today.  I am willing to arm wrestle him for it.  Or maybe one of his kids, he could probably take me in arm wrestling.

I may be a bit territorial about my table but if you see me at it, feel free to join me.  It isn’t an exclusive club, sitting with me that is…Anyone can join me, the more the merrier.  I like my friends to be comfy in my home.  (I wish we could figure out how to bring wine and get some yummy nachos delivered).

Kids hanging out at “home”

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