Sam finishes another lesson by handing me a gold star from a roll he keeps in his office for Sunday school attendance.
Good work, Bridget.
You're biased because I'm in a swimsuit.
Actually I was going to talk to you about that.
You'd rather I didn't wear it?
Yes. Wait, no. I was going to tell you to wear your wetsuit for the lessons so that you don't burn.
I don't think the lesson is long enough for that to happen.
The sun is reflected in the water. You burn faster.
Oh. If you want, I can. But just say it, because me sunburning isn't the reason.
It's distracting to the point where I forget what I'm supposed to say.
You say "Good work, Bridget." I do it in a deep voice and he laughs.
Well, as long as you can prompt me, then, I guess it's fine.
It's way too hot for any more clothes. I was actually going to campaign for naked lessons.
Clear it with your husband and it's a go.
God, I can't wait to see you in your birthday suit yelling at me to breathe.
Wait, I thought you meant the student would be naked. I can't be naked.
Why not? Is it a sin against the Lord, Reverend?
What if I get excited?
Then you EMBRACE it! Jesus. It's forty zillion degrees and we have a pool! Boners for everyone!
Bridget, I swear to God. You're a man, aren't you?
I wish. Then I could write my name in the pool with my pee.
Okay, now that's just wrong.
I mean the snow!
Marginally better. You're obsessed with having a penis though.
Now you know how I got to this strange and wonderful place.
