Beach Bits

Post Labor Day

The Day After Labor Day

I’ve been really good now that I’ve started my full time job for a month. I get up at 6:30 in the morning and I take a walk to the beach. I’ve realized that the trick to getting myself going, is not letting myself turn on my computer to check comments and email until after I’ve walked. I always think, “oh, I’ll just turn it on while I’m getting dressed…” and next thing I know I’m hunkered down, half naked, typing out emails and checking blogs for the latest posts. It’s a sickness, this blogging. I’ve got to keep it under control!

Having a real office job helps me stay focused on a schedule. I’ve got everything all timed perfectly with no room for goofing off. Thankfully part of that schedule is a walk on the beach in the morning before work. It’s really important. It make the whole rest of my day better.

The beach is beautiful. Every day it is a different color. I stayed away during Labor day because it was a madhouse down there. On holidays, the beach ceases to be my beach and it belongs to everybody else and their kitchen sink. There is hardly any space to spread a towel and everyone brings tents and giant coolers and radios. It feels like the city down there. I do love to people watch but I just wasn’t in the mood for people yesterday.

It was nice to go there this morning and see the aftermath. It’s amazing how well they clean the beach. There was still quite a bit of litter in the parking lot but the sand was nearly clean. There are giant sand cleaning tractors that sift the sand from one end to the other. The men who drive these tractors always wave at me and wait for me when I cross in front of them. I feel like we are part of a secret club. The people who go to the beach when nobody else does.

Sometimes I wonder how dirty the sand must be. It’s like a kidney cleaning out the impurities of those who spend the day in it. It’s the same old sand day in and day out, where do all the germs go? I suppose you can’t get a much better natural washing machine than the pounding surf.