A Wiggle and A Giggle

A couple of weeks ago I was feeling really, really miserable - it was yet another freezing Melbourne day where I felt I'd never get that ice water feeling out of my bones, I had a horrendous back ache, and things at work were conspiring to irritate the shit out of me. I can't say for sure, but chances are that the kids were being irritating and for good measure DH was, too. (It's possible they were angels the whole lot of them, but I'm trying to set a scene here, okay?)

Feeling miserable, I tried to come up with a plan for mood improvement which did not involve chocolate and/or drugs of any kind (and I am of course referring to anti-inflammatories. Of course. *wink*). I then had the most brilliant idea EVER. Quite close to home a brand new whizz-bang aquatic centre has opened, and this facility has an ENORMOUS spa in it. When I say "enormous" I mean that you, me, AND the local footy team would all fit in there together. (More on WHY I know a footy team would fit in there in a moment.) My brilliant idea was to abandon my family for a few precious hours and go and sit in said enormous spa. This brilliant idea seemed to solve ALL my problems in one go. First, I'd be WARM. Really warm. Second, I'd be relieving some of my back ache, and third I'd be far away from any humans who would want to talk to me - so I could effectively sit in warm, muscle relaxing comfort without having to even pretend like I enjoy the company of other humans.

I figured a good hour long soak in a quiet hot tub was EXACTLY what Dr Google would order, had I asked him.

Brilliant plan, no?

Brilliant until I realised that the local aqua-plex does not in fact ban other humans from going there. I get to the spa only to discover that it was in fact full of the members of the local footy team. Apparently they relax after an aquatic training session by hanging out and acting like morons in my peaceful bath of tranquility, thus rendering it not tranquil at all. Sure, it improved the view (well, helllllooo there, hot boys!)...but...meh. Then this aquatic and fitness centre has the audacity to run aqua aerobics classes in the hydrotherapy pool located right next to the spa. Yes, because what my moment of serenity really needed was a bunch of old women with bat wing arms enthusiastically swishing about to the beat of Paula Abdul songs reverberating off the tiles.

By now I was absolutely determined to make this whole calm/peace/quiet thing work, regardless of the footy team and the old ladies and even Paula Abdul...until, of course, the straw arrived by sidling up to me in the warm water. The straw being of course an ancient guy who was overly friendly and felt the need to start a conversation. I don't need to tell you that the spa was pretty crowded, and so there was not much opportunity to move away from him  (but of course I tried! I really did.) We'll call him Con, shall we? Con the overly-friendly Greek geriatric who decided I was worth chatting up. So there I sit, in my warm cocoon of loveliness...learning all about Con's life story and feeling utterly trapped. Con's entire life story tumbled right out of his mouth, with nary a stop to take a breath (retired butcher, 3 kids, lives across the road, does not approve of tattoos or piercings, comes to the spa three times a week, his wife drives him mad, he is just working out this whole internet thing.)

*sigh*

By now I'd pretty much given up all hope of achieving my dream of an hour of warm, peaceful, muscle relaxing enjoyment. I certainly was warm, but probably more from the collective pee in there rather than what the thermostat was set to. Yes, I just went there. I was miserable, okay? I found myself FAR more grumpy on the way OUT of the spa than on the way in - thus defeating the entire purpose of my trip there.

I was NOT happy.

Except...this story needs a happy ending, doesn't it?

A couple minutes before I gave up and finally decided to completely blow this over-crowded and noisy taco stand, old Con decided to make his exit, too. He bid me adieu and floated his way across to the other side. I should explain that you can exit the spa either via the stairs, or simply by climbing out over the short wall at the other side. Con was of the one-leg-over exit strategy...which afforded me a full frontal view of his wrinkled dingle-dangly bits, because old Con was sporting fully transparent white bathing shorts. Con, being the overly friendly sort, stopped mid-clamber to face me fully and wave goodbye enthusiastically, which of course made little Con wave enthusiastically, too.

My bad mood? Gone in a wiggle..and a giggle.