ecksercize 33

I went for another swim at that no-longer cursed pool. Lovely it was. But - perhaps out of subtle psychological motivations - I chose the after-swim shower cubicle with a clear and omnipresent view of the offensive, aforementioned sign.

I stared at it as I scrubbed and warmed up after the borderline too-cold sea-water. It bothered and obsessed me. My few alterations had not been nearly enough to render it innocent and blameless. And I felt my urge to correct the mistakes now overtaken by something more reactive, less civilized. Its (not It's) offenses against English were offending me so much, that i now wanted to offend IT in return, and commit actual vandalism. With selective removal and re-spacing of the sticky letters, I could have:

Pubic Noice
Mobile Cameras must be tuned at me when in the hang rooms.
The privy acts all bile, Came in anger. ockers shall be turned in.
this rule was doped in the sty and i fall on u, sing the grooms.
Thank you for your operation.

There I had to admit that either I'm not very good at this kind of vandalism, or the material just doesn't give me enough to work with.

Instead I sharpened my thumbnail again, and scraped the comma up into a ball of full-stop on top of itself. At least one more punctuation error is fixed. But it's (not its) ultimately unsatisfying. The overall offenses outnumber my small fix-ups.

I realized I've posted 3 times on this, and spend a lot of my time in the change room focused on little else. I might seem a bit obsessed.

And yet it doesn't REALLY obsess me, because I forget about it as soon as I leave the pool. It disappears from my mind. I'm only revisiting now because, in the hang room at the time, i thought it would make a cute entry on the erant carp.

So my "obsession" is really just a mental creation. An excuse to find blog material. Does that mean blogging can lead to unnecessary fixations?

Exerseyes 29

Is it possible for a person and a location to be combinatorially voodooed?
It's not me - I have plenty of good experiences with every other swimming pool. And there's nothing wrong with that particular pool. It's popular and successful. Yet I invariably have a negative experience there and leave feeling the opposite to how I should after a swim. Then I avoid it for months.

There was the time my boyfriend was in a foul mood for some reason so he decided to forget to pick me up afterwards. I queued for a pay phone to call and find out he was at home drinking coffee. So I had to walk home. Several times it's just been so damned unbearably cold in there I've had to get out before my full quota of laps. So I've felt irretrievably frozen to the bone and ripped off in both the financial and exercise quotient departments. I've been "bitten" by "sea lice". Completely turned away at the gate because squads and clubs had taken over. And there was the time I was told 3 lanes were free but the squads and clubs decided to make up their own rules and just take up as many lanes as they could. The pool staff abdicated all responsibility so we regular customers all had to squish into one lane - no matter what our speed or stroke style. One day the surf was so big it crashed into the pool and kept sweeping me sideways into the ropes (which are very spindly and give you rope burn, by the way). The foamy churn destroyed all visibility so I had more than one painful head-on collision and the other swimmer didn't even stop to see if I was ok. Just trying to breath without taking in a mouthful of wave was a challenge.

There's always something. Random, mostly unconnected things, but they all happen here.

I do believe however, that I lifted the curse today. It was so cold my toes turned yellow and my fingernails blue, but not so cold I couldn't stay in for the full 2K. The riffly wind whipped up ruffles of sea spray that made breathing air only, without splashes of sea water, mostly impossible. But the visibility was perfect. Swimmers stuck to their lanes and we all swam in the same direction without collision. There were no sea lice or cranky boyfriends or territorial squads.

The accursed public notice in the change room (or changeroom) taunted me as it always does with its crimes against the English language. I'm not a vandal, and it's out of character, but I climbed up on the bench and found that the sticky vinyl lettering is easily lifted by a thumbnail. So I peeled off the 3 offensive apostrophes, feeling a warm satisfaction at the words now restored to their correct plural form. The multiple other punctuation and spelling errors will have to stay. But the apostrophes are a small personal victory.

I'm currently reading and loving The Corrections. Today I made a few corrections of my own. And I left the pool feeling as uplifted as I normally should.