I have decided that I prefer pools to beaches. I prefer to look at a beach - I could look at waves crashing on the beach for hours and hours. But when it comes to recreation and play time? I prefer the clean smell of chlorine and red burning eyes to sand any day.
We have been taking the beach chairs to the shore and letting the waves run over our feet this week. That is a lot of fun. As the tide comes in, the warm waves start at my feet and work their way up to my knees. Before I know it the waves are at my waist! The sandchair is buried in the sand! And I have become part of the beach, buried as well.
It is time to leave and we take half the beach in our bathing suites and the other half of the beach stuck to our skin. Luckily, there are showers at the pool to wash the sand off. But all that does is just move the sand to other parts of my body.
Back at the condo I can shower to get the sand off. But every shower in the US has a water restricter built into it, which means all I get is a drizzle coming out of the shower head. The water pressure isn't enough to move the sand, much less take it off my body. And sand gets everyone - and in places I am sure it is not supposed to be!
Even after scrubbing and scrubbing to get all the sand off, I still fill itchy as if there remains sand on me. For the night and into the next day, I continue to find sand in the oddest places that I know for a fact that I cleaned. The itching is probably justified - do you know how dirty sea water is? Dead fish, fish poop, crabs, rotting sea weed, and who knows what else might be bathing you. Sea shells that litter the beach are the dead remains of sea creatures. Sitting in the sand at the beach is not very sanitary.
I don't like sand. I know that without sand there would be no beach, but the sand takes away the fun of going to the beach.
I think I'm going to stay a pool boy. I'll watch the beach. I might even walk on the beach. But my goal is to make sure nothing more than the bottoms of my feet ever get sandy. You'll find me at the pool.
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