Boss Lady and I went swimming yesterday afternoon. Somebody else beat us to our regular swimming hole, so we went downstream a little bit. It was still plenty deep enough for swimming and plenty of room for splashing. Instead of just rolling up her pants legs and wading, Boss Lady actually went swimming. As I was splashing around on the bank, digging up rocks and pulling down dead tree branches, Boss Lady was testing her swimming muscles. The results of that test? She has no swimming muscles. I looked over to see her just swimming away, and not making any progress whatsoever against the current. I stood there laughing at her, and then splashed right in and swam right past her. Ha! I said. Ha!
You might recall that in the spring she put me in a similar position. Convinced me to jump out into the fast part of the river and then threw lots of rocks to convince me to keep swimming even though I wasn’t making any progress. She called it a swimming treadmill and thought it was a grand trick. And now that I see from the other end how this trick works, I must agree, it is grand. She seemed not at all bothered that a) I was laughing at her and b) she wasn’t making any progress. Part of the problem, she claimed, were the crocs on her feet. She claims they create quite a bit of drag, as well as impeding her kick. Furthermore, the rope around her wrist, which is connected to my harness at the other end, also seems to create a problem. It ended up wound around her arm several times. Besides, she said, she rather enjoyed swimming in place. Frankly, I don’t care about her excuses. I’m just glad to see her suffering the same trick she played on me.