I Miss the Beach

“The Corona Can Has Arrived.
Another Way to Find Your Beach”  

The natives are getting restless. I saw my first lawbreaker a couple of days ago when we rode our bikes past the beach. A woman was tucked down behind the little dune, with her feet in the water. She ducked her head down when she noticed me. Sunday, as we came over Rickenbacker Causeway bridge, I saw several people swimming at the north end of the beach. A cop’s car was parked nearby, so I wonder if they just ran into the water, then were given the bum’s rush out by the police. In either case, I’m jealous. The water looks so inviting, and the weather has turned hot. How ironic is the beer truck delivering to the local grocery store?

Stuff I Thought I’d Go Through
Before Moving to House.
So Delusional.   

We were coming back from packing up our storage unit, and the best thing I can say is that it’s done. Grant took on his grumpy packing persona he drags out for all packing events, and even though I asked him to be patient, he continued to bark orders, punctuated with exasperated sighs. I’m not sure why I was surprised. Any camping trips or vacations began with his being annoyed. At least after the next three weeks, I’m unlikely to have to ever pack again.

My friend Mary, who moved from Plantation to Pace, Florida a couple of years ago, told me from her experience, at our ages, I had one move left in me. She was right. I’ve just divided it into two parts: Fort Lauderdale to Key Biscayne for the first and biggest pack, now to Windermere with a much smaller one. Of course, something’s, like the kitchen and clothes, have to be down both times, but the big move was the first. I was on my own for that one. Thank goodness I had my friend Sally come help, and I hired Ryann for the last few days. I wouldn’t have made it without them. This time, because of coronavirus fear, it’s just me and Grant.

Thinking about swimming in our new pool is keeping me going. Or should I say, my head above water. But I do wish I could go to the beach.