Fair warning: I’m cracking myself up this morning.
Blame Kurt Vonnegut.
Actually, he’s dead.
So blame my dad. He’s alive and introduced me to Kurt Vonnegut’s writings.
Or you can blame me for reading.
Kind of circular, but keep reading, I might just have a point.
I love water. It’s probably because I almost swallowed a whole lake and sunk to the bottom.
Enter the hero, my dad. Thank him, because I’m alive.
In at least two ways, but I digress.
I like the shallow end of the pool. My feet touch the ground and yet I am immersed in the bliss that is water. The best of both worlds.
I walk to the edge of the deep, letting the water get just below my nose until I turn back. Not wanting to exert effort and actually swim where the bottom may or may not be.
Such is a life of thought in the modern age.
Think about it.
Or blame my dad, he taught me to think.
Or blame Kurt Vonnegut for his cameo in Back to School.
Think about it.