A few days ago a kid threw a beach ball into the creek. After shooing the kid away, I assured the kids that I had already rescued the ball (proving it with a different beach ball--I love small children!). However, yesterday I deduced that the ball, indeed, must be fetched, so I told Andrew he had to go with me, mostly because it was really steep & I didn't think I'd be able to safely climb back up. Well, we safely retrieved the ball, and Andrew scaled up a rope without hardly flinching (stupid boyscout). So it was my turn and I grabbed the rope reluctantly. I thought I had it under control until my feet slipped & I swung around through the air. This was the second time in my life that I thought I was going to die (remember the first was my lifeguard pre-test where I almost drowned). So I still had the rope (thank goodness) and yelled at Andrew who helped me up the freakin' cliff (or something...) and I didn't die.
But oh geez it was a little terrifying for a moment.
Just a moment though.
And then he threw me into the pool. But revenge is so sweet, so he should beware.
Indeed.
I miss having quiet time to myself. I feel I should address this soon...<3 = ) ...
Hasta luego.
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