I woke up on a Tuesday morning that was free of any duties. I had a day to myself! This was a good thing, as my misery had reached a crescendo. I was so depressed that I couldn’t talk to anyone, and functioning was only possible by force. The day dawned blessedly cooler. Highs in the mid seventies, clear skies and a nice, stiff breeze awaited me. I thought I’d take a break from my usual routine of watering the gardens early in the day, and go for a bike ride. Exercise is good for the soul, and the bonus of a few endorphins certainly wouldn’t hurt things. I mounted my trusty steel and rubber steed, and headed toward the pier. I was anticipating the wind over the lake and river to assist in cleansing my mind of worries.
Just as I hit the concrete of the pier, I saw two fishermen. As I was about to ride past them, one of them began reeling in his catch. He’d snagged a seagull in the wing. The poor bird was flapping and squawking as the man attempted to bring it to solid ground to free it. You could see that the fisherman was very disturbed over having caught this poor bird.
Disturbed? I was freaked.
I fought a massive case of the shudders while my gorge rose. I pedaled faster in an attempt to get away from the poor thing, which I was certain would be set free and immediately find me to peck out my eyes while flapping it’s broken wings on me, covering me with seagull blood and poop. I made all kinds of whimpering noises as I forced my bike into Mach 1. This wasn’t easy, as I was pedaling right into the wind, which was stronger than I had anticipated. I persevered, made it to the end of the pier; a wild-eyed, sweaty fat woman, with hair that was akin to Medusa’s. With much trepidation, I turned my bike around and headed back in the direction of the captured bird.
With the wind at my back, this leg of the journey was much more enjoyable. The waves were crashing high into the side of the pier. As I approached the beginning of the pier again, I noticed the fishermen and snagged seagull were gone. I also noticed that the waves were crashing up into the corner and over the walkway.
The area in question is right under the large sign. This splashing often happens on windy days.
Yes, I know there’s a big freaking heron in this picture. I was actually planning on using this picture for something else when this happened to me.
This corner is always full of a delightful collection of river scum:
I watched as the waves crashed up and over onto the surface of the pier on my journey in. Each crash was monstrous on its’ own, and another wave didn’t follow it for at least a few seconds; sometimes as long as a few minutes. As I pedaled closer, I planned my getaway to be immediately after a major splash. The anticipated splash happened, I stood upright on the pedals and went as fast as I could, only to catch a ginormous wave of scum along the entire left side of my body.
Nauseated, I made it home as fast as I could. I was certain that the green slime that was in my hair and coating my arms contained a certain concentration of seagull poop and dead fish parts. I hit the shower, put on fresh make-up, did my hair again and then decided to water the gardens, as I should have done in the first place.
So, I don’t understand why I was surprised when the connection between the hose and spraying wand failed and shot a gallon of water directly into my face.