The Near Miss

For those of you not in Bucerias, you probably would rather we didn’t complain about the heat as it gets cooler in your home towns. It really has been super hot here lately, hotter than normal, some say. We’re happily in the pool most afternoons to take a break from constant perspiration. With the pool being fully enclosed and completely private, we only don our bathing suits in front of guests, of which there have been none, for months and months. We’re very accustomed to pieces of clothing being tossed around the living room as we hurry to get in and feel the cool, ahhh, of the refreshing water.

Well, a funny little thing happened yesterday afternoon.

Our delightful cleaning lady was here, for her usual three hours. We just love her. She’s quite a going concern, so we do our best to stay out of her way. Once she finishes the rooftop, we move up there and give her full reign of the rest of the house. We leave her pesos on the kitchen counter and she picks them up on her way out.

Nearing cocktail hour, 4:30pm, we’re thinking its time to get in the pool. We came downstairs, looking forward to finding some relief from this humidity. Yes, the pesos are gone. Lupita has taken her leave.

It really is a demonstration of team work prior to us taking the dip. You see, we have to “set up” the pool side bar, which includes; opening the screen doors in the living room to gain access to the pool; strategically placing towels in all the right spots, for both safety and comfort; plugging in Spotify or satellite radio with various cords from wall, through phone, into speaker; gather plastic wine glasses and bottle of vino; carry tequila, limes and shot glasses, cutting board, and knife. In a matter of minutes, we’re ready.

Dennis unbuttoned his shorts and pulled his shirt overhead, draping it over the couch.  I hear Dennis’ belt buckle and zipper as I’m tugging at my sticky T-shirt. We are both two garments away from being naked when we hear a “click” from behind.  It’s Lupita, exiting the first floor washroom, having completed her responsibilities and meeting the call of nature before heading home. “Adios,” she said, with a little blush.

After hearing our story, my dad said, “That was a Clothes Call!”