Easy is for wimps

If I only did things that were easy, I might never get out of bed.

I certainly would not transfer to a normal toilet to do my business. My manly parts are cheering this news after being squished this morning when I slipped and sat down on the toilet seat in an awkward position.

I would not stand at a toilet either. Here, it is my head that is cheering. I stood up today, had too much speed and bashed my head into the wall.

I would not have taken a new job either. I am pleasantly surprised that I am looking forward to the new job, but it will still be hard.

I might still swim -- backstroke is not that hard -- but I would not put my head underwater and let someone drag me across the pool and back in five-second increments on my stomach. I certainly would not let the dragger decide to start counting only when my legs were at the top of the pool. Surprisingly, this was pretty neat. Exhausting, and I did suck in some water, and the dragger told the teacher I panic and thrash at the start of every five-second drag -- maybe because I can't breathe? -- but it was cool.

I would not have stayed for the potluck after swimming to celebrate its 20-year anniversary. This meant changing at the rec center -- not as nice as home -- and eating something that totally screwed up my digestive system. But I did get to see my indefatigable swimming teacher whip out her blue fiddle and start playing, leading me to wonder if there is anything she doesn't do.

An easy life would be awful boring.