I do my best thinking in the tub, which essentially amounts to forget everything. (What's old Stratapuss up to these days? "Retired to a monastery.") I don't turn the jets on and prefer the quiet. The sound of people doing laps is all. Otherwise, like the humming urban traffic, one can't escape the mechanical drone of the circulation pumps and HVAC. Peace and quiet is all I ask.
When ready, more heat and let it all out. Only so much a man can take. The pool quenches and I am forged... whatever happens, I will call on The Lord who sustains me quite sweetly. Why, taking just a moment to look back hooting, I do recall being terminated because I said that homosexuality is a maladaptation. Took it in stride and made a few fantastic deals. Atta boy! Talk about facilitation.
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