I thought that I was in the clear. That I was safe. That I could take a deep breath and put it out of my mind.

That I didn't have to go a-hunting for tennis skirts.

After our trip to PR involved only beaches and no tennis courts, the whole frantic must-find-myself-a-cute-tennis-skirt-but-WHERE? rush was over. Or so I thought.

Then crankypants called, saying in this super-excited voice, "Guess what the apartment complex I'm staying in the summer has?"
Me: "Um, no Russian mafia people?"
Him: "No! Tennis courts! We can play this summer!"

Now, he lived in these same apartments two years ago, and they had tennis courts back then, so I don't know how he missed them. And I don't know why he's so focused on us playing tennis together. I think it's because I refuse to swim laps or run with him. What's wrong with just tanning on the beach? I don't understand his efforts at incorporating more exercise into my life. Maybe I like being a lazy turd. (At the beach, he will make us walk along the shoreline forever. And his definition of "let's walk to the end of the beach" vastly differs from mine. I will go until I see the end in the far horizon, and determine that it's time to turn back. He'll keep going until he hits a physical barrier that will prevent him from going any further. What happened to just sitting and reading on the beach?) Swimming laps is so boring. I hate it when water gets up my nose, so that leaves me with backstroke - and then I hate it when I accidentally crash into the wall because I forget how many strokes it is from the flags to the wall. It really hurts. Plus, you can't read a magazine while swimming (for obvious reasons), and I can't focus enough to swim for any extended period of time. My mind starts to wander, I forget that I'm swimming laps for exercise, and I end up floating on my back watching the sky and getting annoyed at people who splash me. How dare they, those heathens. And with running - well, I get so caught up looking at the houses I'm running past that I simply must slow down to admire them.

But this intense interest in tennis on his part means that I absolutely cannot procrastinate on finding a cute tennis outfit - or four, it simply wouldn't do to rewear the same getup repeatedly - but WHERE does one find pleated tennis skirts? The only ones I can find don't have pleats. My tennis skirts have to have pleats. It's just the way I want them. They're very grosgrain-ribbon-bow-in-hair perky. I have to start the hunt now, so that I accumulate a nice selection by the time the summer comes around.

Of course, I suppose I don't have to buy tennis skirts - Ha Ha Ha. That is not an option. If I'm going to participate in a sport, I'm going to be attired accordingly. Obviously. Plus, every good wardrobe should have some tennis outfits.

He is so going to regret playing tennis with me. I haven't played competitively in seven years, and I was no good back then, either. My strength lies in that I am relatively consistent in returning baseline strokes. I hate playing the net, I'm always afraid that a tennis ball is going to whack me in the nose. And when I get bored at the baseline, I'll just lob it back to you. I am super-good at lobbing. It requires little skill and technique. But you have to hit the ball to me, I'm not going to run to get to it. Yes, as with everything else in my life, the game has to be structured around my rules, otherwise I'm just not gonna play.

Scarlett Ace, start practicing now. I'm roping you in for mixed doubles. Paul gets to be your partner, you lucky girl.