H and I have been talking about getting scuba certified for years. Now that H has a slightly more predictable schedule, he’s decided that we should finally buckle down and take the course in the United Kingdom. He sent me the following instant messages this morning:
H: “Check it out, www.anonymousukscubacertification.co.uk”
Me: “Looks great, only problem is that they do the certification training in the North Sea.”
H: “So?”
Me: “The North Sea is icy cold; think how cold your shower was this morning when you ran out of hot water and then multiply that by a thousand. People are out in shorts and tank tops today because it’s 16 degrees Celsius. How warm do you think the North Sea actually gets?”
H: “Not warm at all, but then we’ll finally have our scuba certification. And they’ll provide dry suits so it shouldn’t be too bad. Not to mention it would be kind of cool to get our certification in the North Sea”
Me: “True, fine. I’ll do it. But I want a dry suit that looks like a polar bear costume, white with black paws and a little black nose on my mask.”
H: “Done.”
I know, I know. Instant message conversations with me most definitely are the highlight of H’s day.
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