There is a group of people down in the pool having fun right now. It’s the kind of loud fun that you think is a blast at 22 and find annoying at 42 (or 43, or 44, or 45, or…). They are playing a version of Marco Polo that I can only assume will ultimately involve nudity—mostly because I’m cranky, and it’s impossible to write when someone is yelling out “MARCO” every 4 seconds.

The only way I can get through this crank-fest is to come up with a range of scenarios that will fit the frolicking going on downstairs.

For instance, what would happen if I went down to join them?  Rather than sitting up here all vexed at their mindless enjoyment of this holiday that they have not yet earned, I could go down and introduce myself.  Perhaps something along the lines of, “Greetings bouncing people, I have come to join you” would set the right tone? No doubt they would be charmed by my aged visage and beg me to regale them with my wisdom.

No?

Option B is to sit in my apartment and glare ineffectually at the sliding glass door. I don’t have air conditioning, so it will have to remain “MARCO!!” open while they “POLO” try to solve the “MARCO!!” mysteries of the “POLO” universe.

Clearly, there is only one real option. I am going to strap on my floaties and bond with my neighbors. They are festive and can introduce me to other people who enjoy life to the fullest. It is quite obviously an opportunity that I should not pass up just get a little work done.

Had you going there for a second, didn’t I?