I loathe four things most people love:
Coffee tables (where did the entire freaking room go and just how many bruises do I have to endure on my legs?).
Parades (Is it over yet? How about now? Haven't I seen this band before?)
Star Wars (None of this would ever happen nor do I want to pretend that it could like with Jurassic Park.)
The beach (the salt and/or murky water, the lack of shade, and by far the number one reason I hate the beach: the sand that I'll still be finding in my ear folds a month later.
I begrudgingly accepted an invitation to play volleyball with my colleagues today because the last few times they played, I was legitimately unavailable to play. I promised them last time that I'd go the next time they played, and that happened to be today. On the beach. In the sand. Ugh.
So I rode the bus up to Oak Street Beach today and got off pleasantly surprised by the beauty of the park area near the beach. Then I walked down to the walkway that runs under the street and then up to a bike path adjacent to the beach.
And the sight was breathtaking. I actually paused to take in the beauty of the sparkling water and the vast span of white sand in front of me stretching out to my left and the city of Chicago to my right and behind me flanked by small patches of greenery.
I was even able to ignore the cigarette butts and pieces of garbage poking up through the sand to enjoy the gorgeous day and my hilarious colleagues, pausing several times to marvel at the beauty of the juxtaposition of sand, water, and nature and the bustling city.
Not even the sand clinging to my legs and arms after diving into it to bump the ball bothered me - and I even quit dusting myself off after the first few times I dove and allowed the sand to stay on my skin, which is virtually unheard of when it comes to myself.
Remember the time I actually enjoyed being at the beach? It's hard not to with great weather, great company, and great scenery. Maybe as I get older, times will continue to be a changin'.
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