Although I emerged victorious from my latest confrontation with Ricardo, the emotional fallout from verbally shouting at a fellow human being (not to mention punching him in his bastard face!) has left me in a tizzy of nerves. Just the other day I started weeping uncontrollably and without prompting in my Tai Chi class, and every time I try to soothe myself by talking baby talk to Puppy Bear she just looks out the front window or whines at Katie's room, ostensibly looking for Ricardo (which breaks my already delicate heart in a way you can't imagine.) This has led to many unproductive hours of me curled up in a corner, wrapped in my tattered quilt, gently rocking myself back and forth and chain-smoking with my favorite song from Ultimate Kenny G on repeat.
Needless to say, this has resulted in very little of me doing what I do best; writing. So once I felt it was safe, when the light was low and all the lamps were off, borrowing a technique I have observed used by rats, I peeked out into the open, hostile cavern that is my living room. Being very careful to stay close to the walls for protection, I crawled out of my little pillow-fort and cautiously made my way across the room, stealthily crawling, pausing every few feet or so to look around, and carefully retrieved my laptop before scampering back to the safety of my nest. There, prize in hand, I opened askjeeves.com and made a single query "Dear Jeeves, What do geniuses such as myself do to relax when they are flustered? Regards, Jordan"
Jeeves returned several results regarding baths. Archimedes discovered that gold was valuable in the bath, Einstein said he did his best thinking in the bath. Obviously, my taking weekly showers rather than weekly baths has proven detrimental to my thinking, and so it was with great renewed anticipation that I sprung from my hidey-hole, running towards my bathroom with laptop in tow, eager to soak myself in the tub and allow the inspiration to flow from my fingertips! Of course, Katie was already in there with the door locked, doing her usual boo-hooing. She is a sensitive girl, that Katie, but not in an acute polymath way like me. No, she is more petulant, and childish, and stupid in her sensitivity.
Since I didn't want to listen to any bitching about me getting a job or how hard her life is, I decided to utilize my gymnasium membership, as they have a public hot-tub there. It would be there that the weight of my staggering intellect would finally be articulated on the page. Since I didn't care to get my notebook wet, I decided that my laptop would be the more appropriate tool to utilize for my purpose of writing in the bath. So after rummaging around and finally locating an old pair of my swim-shorts, I loaded everything into my Prius and off I went!
Trouble first began rearing it's ugly head as I dressed to enter the hot-tub. In a brilliant strategic move, I opted to leave my T-shirt on, all the better to conceal the voluptuous nature of my ample belly. The shorts were several sizes too small and it was only with a concerted effort that I was able to pull them over my buttocks and around my waist. Even then, they were much too tight. I wondered if they might have in truth belonged to that damn Ricardo. Or perhaps that damned Katie just shrunk them in the wash as she has nearly ALL my other clothes with the odd exception of my socks. Digression aside, it was with great discomfort that I carried my laptop to the hot-tub area. The elastic waistband was biting into my sides something horrible, and I could literally hear the seams of the nylon fabric straining as I carefully ambled towards my destination.
I carefully lowered myself into the hot-tub, gently placed my laptop on the edge, and hit the button that said "jets." A transcendently pleasant yet forceful stream of bubbles evolved, which when combined with the persistent heat of the all-natural spring water produced a deeply relaxing effect. Or rather, it would have were it not for the constant nagging pinching of these stupid damned shorts. They were biting at my sides so badly that I one point I mused that this must be what it's like for surfers who are eaten by sharks in revenge for polluting the planet. It was, in all honesty, overly distracting from the extremely important work I was wont to do at the moment, and the more I furrowed my brow the more frustrated I became.
Leave it to the gentle wooshing of the hot-tub to engender creative genius, as hot-tubs are wont to do. I realized that the hot-tub's jet-stream would conceal anything below the meniscus of the water. Therefore lowering the waistband to the level of my knees would relieve my discomfort without exposing my naked buttons to the perverse, ogling eyes of passers-by. Of course I did this without a second thought, and discovered that my T-shirt AND my belly provided both second and third layers of protection against any unwelcome gaze. I was chuffed! My work could continue unabated by shrunken/Ricardo's shorts (I neither knew nor cared which, but I digress yet again.) I instantly set upon my laptop and began, at long last, articulating and giving voice to the fountain of genius that has always been welling up within me!
Golden moments such as these are not wont to last, however. Some aged, obese dolt eventually came doddering over and regarded me with a sneer, that I all too eagerly returned hoping to dissuade him from using the hot-tub in tandem with me, which up to this point had been my sole domain in it's entirety. Alas, he made his way in and settled down opposite me, exhaling an exhausted sigh from the concerted effort. Ah - the physical trials of the elderly and aged. After a moment, he opened one eye and looked right at me. I bristled at the thought of having to engage this interrupting codger in conversation.
"You're really not supposed to be using a laptop in the spa, buddy." he mumbled in a gruff yet withering old man tone.
"Au contraire" was my immediate thought, I had reviewed the rules thoroughly and found no such restriction for laptops. This old man's lack of common sense was getting on my nerves. "I am free to enjoy this hot-tub without the restrictions and criticisms imposed by cultural relics such as you, sir!" was my curt and dismissive reply. The gaffer opened his other eye and leaned forward, ostensibly to erroneously admonish me further. Predictably, it was at this point that the jet-stream abruptly ceased and the concealing bubbles quickly dissipated, revealing for this sicko the brilliant alteration I had made to my swimwear. I could tell by the widening of his eyes and the flaring of his nostrils that he found the visage to be sublimely erotic. In short, this man was a pervert and the realization thereof instantly reversed any sense of relaxation and creative flow supplied by the hot-tub.
"HELP!" I shrieked. "HELP!!! THIS MAN IS A SICKO!!" With panic welling up inside me I quickly clambered out of the hot-tub. However, my disheveled swim-haberdashery proved to be an impediment, causing me to trip on the stairs and drop my laptop in to the now-stagnant, tepid water. I felt a small electric current nipping at my toes, and the instinctive jump resulted in my falling backward into the tub and ruefully into the lap of the aged pervert.
This put me into an uncontrollable fugue, as falling into the lap of an elderly pervert clad only in a wet T-shirt and too small shorts lowered to your knees is wont to do. Forgetting the ill fit of the shorts, I yanked them up past my buttocks and in terror felt them split down the middle. This was the worst happenstance ever! I knew without artifice nor evasion that self-defense was the only viable option at this point, and tearing the remains of the shorts from my waist, bludgeoned the offender's head and face with them several times before making a mad dash for the locker room.
Without bothering to towel off I put my clothes back on and ran for the safety of my Prius, not bothering to regale the staff with ANY novel ideas nor literary musings on the way out. That would have to wait for when they remunerate me for my lost laptop and the priceless body of work contained therein. Additionally, that particular laptop was something of an antique which served to enhance it's value, and it is with great curiosity that I wait to see exactly how they intend to compensate me for that! Finally, I fully intend to prosecute the old pervert who attacked me to the maximum extent of the law, and once I discover his name and address will embark upon a campaign of information gathering and evidence collection to bring the hammer of judicial retribution down upon this miscreant with maximum prejudice!
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