As I mentioned last time, the pools are open, which is fantastic, but we're not allowed to change in the locker rooms or by the pool, using a towel to perform what's called a deck change. That didn't stop one old woman, who was under the impression that if she turned her back to us, we couldn't see her.
Somehow, I have found it possible—but awkward to the extreme—to change out of my suit and into shorts while sitting in the driver's seat of my car. Naturally, I try to wait till no one is nearby. The other day, however, I was midway through the act—i.e., the worst possible moment—when a couple pushing a stroller approached. They must've come from inside a building. I dragged my towel over my lap right as they reached the window. It was not a good look, but it beat the alternative. I did wish I hadn't been wearing my Joe Biden shirt.
Later on, and I don't even know if I was thinking about all this, I couldn't recall the word exhibitionist. Opposite of voyeur, starts with ex.... In hindsight, I should not have asked Adam. That afternoon, while we were looking at a house, the broker explained that the windows in the master bath can be made opaque with the flip of a switch. "Erik wouldn't use that," he said. "He's an exhibitionist."
I objected, strenuously, probably making it seem even likelier to be true. And Adam explained that he was thinking about my attempts to change out of my swimsuit. But I suspect the damage was done.
P.S. These birds must like to watch, because they built a nest in our shower window.
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I've really struggled with Gary Shteyngart's novel Lake Success, despite loving his Super Sad True Love Story. The characters are unlikable and unbelievable, a sour combination. But this line, about a Greyhound bus trip, was gold:
The PA system screeched to life. "Tuscaloosa," the driver sighed, as if he had had his heart broken there.