When I was in gradeschool we spent the summer months swimming at crystal lake, behind my house. But you had to go all the way around the lake to the bathhouse and show your passes to the recalcitrant lifeguards. My parents said we couldn’t swim on our side of the lake because a drunk guy had once fallen in and drowned. Every once and a while our swim sessions would be cut short by megaphoned monotones warning of lightning so would everyone please exit the water immediately. Grudgingly we swam to the docks and hoisted ourselves onto the wet wood.
Writing and I have a love/hate relationship. But I'm gonna do it anyways… so you might as well come along for the ride