The weather on Key Largo is inexpressibly fine. It is as undiminished as it is fine. Day after day  the perfection of blue sky and yellow sunshine. From the outset of one’s ritual morning exercise it is impossible to resist the allure of the radiant sunshine whether unobstructed or amid the fleeting cumulonimbi in the azure sky. The temperature (always a minimum warm and often approaching hot at the earliest hour of the day) instantly corresponds to one’s linen costume. Cotton is far too strenuous for the local climate.

Last evening we lingered uncommonly late.  It was near 10:45 pm when we extinguished all the lights on the first floor; and thereafter upstairs I conducted my evening ablutions, took my pills and at last pulled the duvet cover up to my chin with my arms forming a vector resembling a corpse in a coffin at a funeral. I slept until almost ten o’clock this morning.

Lethargy is a pathological state to which I am unaccustomed. It is however a logical conclusion which in my current medium of enterprise is appropriately drawn from casual examination. There is little that offends such torpidity. Indeed I have frequently asked myself while gazing from my lair upon the morning shimmering light behind the window blind, why precisely is there any rush whatsoever to do anything? And how is it that I have succeeded to this enviable position of dormancy? There is no echo of the inarguable words of Samuel Beckett’s Parisienne char to his mournful query about the meaning of life, “Get out of bed and write a play to pay the rent!” Long past are the days of expediency.

Yet invariably, in spite of the most ardent application of philosophy and reason, I soon douse water upon the flames of that mental inertia and regain my long-standing preference for discovery and productivity. Note, if you will, the signal dimensions of exploration and composition.  Mine is neither a placid nor dispassionate existence. I prefer instead to confront my legacy and future (dare I say my destiny) as eagerly as possible during the waking hours. While I haven’t the preposterous conviction of the early bird and the celebrated worm; nor yet am I prepared to idle away what I acknowledge are limited minutes within each day.

All this is to say that it was with an undeniable gusto late this morning after breakfast that I approached the soothing balmy air and glistening sunshine as I tricycled in the direction of the nearby pool where of late I have been accustomed to bask in the sunshine and swim. Again today it proved that the residents of Buttonwood Bay seem to be departing from their digs. There were only several people already positioned in their customary resorts by the pool. I was thus able to secure my own location without hindrance. There I remained throughout the early afternoon in the blazing sunshine, pausing only once with Mrs C to chat (albeit riotously as is is our custom) and another thereafter to swim in the relieving pool.

Eventually I was overcome by a passion to swim in the sea.  After expiating my guilt concerning my prolonged indolence by tricycling throughout Buttonwood Bay I recovered my zeal by swimming in the sea and subsequently showering at the outdoor facility.