A cursing mom is rarely good

When Mom pulled up outside work at 1:51 for my 2 o'clock to take me to a appointment, I asked where she had been. To save her the shame, I'll just say she used an adjective to describe the basement garage that I use on occasion.

It turned out that she did not really wish that God would smite the basement; I don't think she wasn't even upset at the snafu on where to pick me up (I blame the weather: Dad had said outside unless it was raining, which it was when Mom left to get me but not when I left the building). She told me after we were on our way to aqua therapy that she can't help it, she worries about me when I am changing clothes in a bathroom (I did not think my bathing suit was appropriate work attire, so I put it on in the bathroom at work).

My question then: Why doesn't Mom have a mouth like a sailor or mule driver if she curses when she is worried about me?

The aqua therapy would have been anti-climactic after that, except I walked.

I was in the water, but still it was pretty cool. I stood in 4 feet of water for about 40 minutes. I walked around the edge of the pool (or part of it), marched in place, stood on tiptoes and other stuff. It was pretty tiring but cool.

I am thinking Aquaman is not so stupid after all.

I am waiting for the pain to kick in, but am OK so far. Now, I just need to figure out how to build a pool in my condo.