Old Cape Cod

Well, I’m back from my vacation on Cape Cod.  So, your respite from the blog is over–it’s back to work, both for me and for you.  My condolences.

But what if I need to vent?

But what if I need to vent?

For our vacation, Yduj and I rented a lovely little cottage located on a dead-end road that terminated at an inlet to the sea.  We were only about 1/2 mile from a gorgeous ocean beach. Apparently, it was so beautiful that several hundred thousand people agreed and decided it would be a good place to spend the day. So, even though the beach was very nearby, once there, we had to hike a ways to get to some reasonable solitude.  All while carrying more paraphernalia than I care to admit to.  I couldn’t keep an image of a pack mule from donkeying across my mind whenever I made the trek.

Vacationing can often be a reinforcement . . . or maybe more accurately, a reminder of the differences couples have.  For example, Yduj much prefers bay beaches; primarily because the water is much more inviting. Not nearly as cold as the ocean and easier to navigate getting in and out. I, on the other hand, am drawn to the ocean.  Whether I make it into the water is of little consequence . .  just the wildness of the surf absorbs me.  Which leads me to another real difference in our preferences that got highlighted from time to time.  I can sit for long periods of time on the beach either reading or pretending to read.  Or just staring out at the horizon.  Yduj is less happy with that . . . which, as you might imagine can lead to, if not conflict maybe a little strain.  I self-righteously justify what appears to be laziness by casting myself as the embodiment of Newton’s First Law of Motion which states that a body at rest tends to stay at rest.  Why would I want to flout one of the basic tenets of physics? Especially, while on vacation.  Yet, despite our different sensibilities in these areas, we managed enough compromise to keep both of us satisfied.

Prior to going away, I had gotten myself a new bathing suit.  Of course, I didn’t pay enough attention when buying it, so I was a little discomfited when I put it on and discovered that it didn’t have an elastic waistband but instead had a velcro fly and waist closure.  The main problem with this arrangement was that when I peed at a urinal and then closed the velcro, I had to pat my front down to close the fly. Doing that looked very much as if I were playing with myself.  Now, Cape Cod is not Park Slope. And I have enough problems without worrying about being hauled before some local magistrate for indecent and lewd behavior.  So, I took to wearing an older, more conventional suit.

But one day we were at the beach (a bay beach–big surprise!) and I had to go to the public bathroom.  I was at the urinal and all of sudden I heard a ripping sound next to me.  I’d know that sound anywhere–and sure enough, the guy next to me had a velcro fly!  I would have looked to see how he handled closing up but you know, Cape Cod is not Park Slope and . .   well, you know the rest.

But I did pay attention to the guy after he finished up and watched him go to the sink to wash his hands. Now here’s the weird thing: the floors of the bathroom (or any beach public bathroom for that matter) were pretty disgusting.  This one was particularly vile. And this guy was barefoot. (I was wearing flip flops and thought I’d have to throw those out after walking on that floor.)  And he’s busy washing his hands from possibly a drop of pee while he’s ankle-deep in god knows what.  But then again, what do you expect from someone dopey enough to own a bathing suit with a velcro fly?


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