The Pool

Go to pool today. New speedo doesn't seem to fit quite right, but this probably to be expected with any sort of shorts cut that high and constructed with such stout elastic. Usual effects of swimming set in and feel like fish. At end of workout, am trim, confident, and completely unafraid of global warming (despite recently read fact that the Greenland ice sheet melting briskly)and am also even completely unafraid of being killed in sleep by carbon monoxide poisioning. Have wild thought that mood will continue indefinately and that linked problem of insomnia verly likely solved as well. In this generous mood, take self to the Donut Pub for treat. Pick out chocolage glazed for self. Choose cream filled donut with sprinkles for the Contessa as know that she likes extremely sweet things and because know that won't be tempted by nasty thing myself. On street, chocolate donut disappears very very quickly. Lick fingers and congratulate self that only had one to eat. Back at at school, as door to elevator is closing, wingtip booted foot is shoved in gap between doors. Doors open again and rest of body follows. It is the New Man, who has wet hair and his own speedo knotted on handle of his attache case. He says, I tried to get your attention at the pool. Have very dim memory of hearing somebody call out Fritz, but decided that somebody could have been saying "fast." The new man says, you have a nice Stroke, which makes me extremely nervous. To cover up nervousness, dig into bag and shove the Contessa's donut into mouth. Offer half to the New Man who shakes his head no and says that he Doesn't Eat Carbs, which sounds like 2002. Dispose of bag and make no mention of donut to the Contessa. Log onto computer. The Contessa says, what is on your forehead? Say, I don't know, What is it? She says, it looks like a little green something. Pick the little green something off of forehead. Am pained to see that it is a sprinkle. Confess to the Contessa that I ate her dounut. She says, no problem at all, and seems to mean it, but adds, implausibly, that she is giving up sugar during february. (Note to self: see if it is once again unpopular to eat pasta. Sincerely hope not.)