Pools and Lack of Murder

So today a short story I wrote for La Stranezza's 365th post went up. You can read it here. To anyone who made it here from there: Hello! I admire your taste.

Yesterday, I learned four very important things:

• The SAT is a long test, and when they suggest you bring snacks, it's a very good idea to do so. It's hard to concentrate on the proper way to avoid splitting an infinitive when you're hungry.
• There is nothing - nothing - better than a heated pool, except a heated pool at ten o'clock at night while there's a fireworks display going on down the road and you have a perfect view of said display.
•  There is very little worse than getting out of a heated pool at eleven o'clock at night after the fireworks display, when it's barely fifty degrees out, and discovering that your towel is soaking wet.
• But then there were butterscotch-fudge brownies, so it was all good.
•  Driving home after late-night pool parties sucks, and getting lost is inevitable. And when you call for directions, you will be laughed at.

In any case, yesterday was fun, up until the getting-lost-in-the-maze-of-twisty-little-back-roads-all-alike bit. But as I was not killed by a hook-handed mass-murderer, I'm going to call it a win.

This didn't get me.