Without sounding like I’m a bit up myself and/or possibly live in a resort where there are a list of options of things to do before breakfast, on Friday I thought it might be nice to do a few laps in the pool before I made myself a Food Nazi approved smoothie.
So I put on my togs, took a quick photo of my feet near the pool to Instagram once my fitness for the year day was done and got in the pool.
Sadly I never got to share that creative foot vs pool shot on with my Instagram friends because what unfolded next was, well, highly traumatising would be putting it mildly.

The previously unshared foot vs pool shot. Tell all your friends you saw it here first!
I was in the pool, contemplating important political issues like should I be concerned that I consider Malcolm Turnbull to be a bit of a silver fox (wondering for a friend, obvs) when I decided to stop thinking about politics and decided to get my Dory on.
Or should that be Nemo? Because isn’t Dory a bit of an air head? Whichever one needed to just keep swimming, that’s the one I needed to be. Although now that I think about it, I’m fairly sure that was a metaphor and not a reference to actual swimming, so maybe I should just get out of the pool?
Ah, hindsight. It’s a wonderful thing.
If only I had’ve heaved myself out of the pool instead of deciding to Dory my way down to the other end.
Because once I was there I saw something brown bobbing up and down in the skimmer box thing. No biggie, I thought it myself. It’s just a leaf. Stick your hand inside and get it out.
So I did. And that’s when I discovered that the leaf was actually a DEAD CANE TOAD.
You know that moment when you think you’ve seen something but then your mind is all ‘HELL NO. THERE’S NO WAY IT WAS THAT!’ so you start to think maybe you were wrong? I had that for a good 30 seconds, while I was floating in the deep end of the pool, wondering if I should take another look at the leaf/cane toad situation that was pretty much right in front of me.
But then my mind was all, ‘WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?! EVACUATE! EVACUATE!’ and I swam back to the other end of the pool quicker than you can say, “P.Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney.”
Once I got to the other end of the pool I sat there for a bit, because despite the fact I was sharing the water with a dead cane toad, the temperature was quite lovely and I didn’t want to get out. But then my mind was all, ‘ARE YOU F*&KING KIDDING ME?! YOU’RE SITTING IN DEAD CANE TOAD INFESTED WATER! GET OUT OF THE POOL. I REPEAT, GET OUT OF THE POOL.’
So I got out of the pool, sent Scott a text letting him know there was a dead cane toad bobbing around in the skimmer box and if he could kindly remove it when he got home that would be most appreciated, made myself a vodka latte and got on with my day.
Later that evening…
Scott walked through the door after a hard day at the office* I poured him a scotch and lit a cigar for him, all while quietly cooking his favourite meal in the background as he relaxed on the couch with a newspaper.
Sorry, I’ve just binge watched several episodes of Mad Men on Netflix. Can you tell?
*Please read this post: Quizzes, Guns and Tape Decks if you’d like to know what Scott does for a living.
Truth be told, he walked through the door and had already cracked his first beer, thanks to his genius idea of putting a second fridge in the garage. It doesn’t leave a lot of room to park our cars, but there’s plenty of room for the beer, which I’m told on a scale of 1 – Obama is right up there in terms of importance levels.
We had a good laugh about my Dory Cane Toad incident:
“I think it’s a bit unfair referring to yourself as Dory though.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m probably more Stephanie Rice than Dory.”
“That’s quite the leap. I’m not so sure we need to go from Dory to Olympic Gold Medalist just yet. Besides your shoulders wouldn’t be anywhere near as wide as an actual swimmer’s”
“Good save. Now can you please get outside and remove the dead cane toad from my training grounds?”
And off Scott went to do whatever it is one does when the removal of a dead cane toad from a swimming pool is required.
I was in the kitchen deboning a quail throwing a frozen pizza in the oven when Scott returned 15 minutes later.
“So I have a bit of news,” he said as he handed me a glass of wine. “You might want to sip on this while I tell you.”
“Ok…..” came my reluctant reply, as I sat down at the kitchen bench and took a small sip chugged back the wine.
“It turns out the cane toad wasn’t dead. It was stuck in its own little whirlpool thanks to the filter system and couldn’t get out. It probably thought you were about to rescue it this morning!”
“Oh that’s great. Just great!” came my reply as I slid the empty wine glass across the kitchen bench. “Fill her up, right to the top. And while you’re at it, would you mind passing me a giant bowl of carbs. My training days are officially over. I knew I put the words Exercise Avoider on my business cards for a reason! Bloody nature. That and exercise will be the death of me. I swear to god, that’s how I will die. I’ll be climbing a mountain or going on a bush walk and some sort of random creature will bite me and I will die. Because we’ll be somewhere without any phone reception and nobody will have a current first aid certificate and my last words will be, “FFS. This is why you should never buy sneakers!”
Ever had a swim with a cane toad? Taken a photo of your feet beside a pool? Died while wearing sneakers? Tell me all the things!
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