The Water Skis of Doom

My brain has altered its tactics in its quest to drive me crazy. Now, it's also trying to kill me.
There can be no other explanation to my bizarre willingness to cave in to peer pressure and go water skiing for the first time. Actually, that was the first time these little feeties have ever been near any kind of ski, water or snow. But now it occurs to me that there was a very good reason why I'd never been skiing-- I have no coordination.

Despite this, I somehow found myself in a strange chair-like position in 65 degree water up north in Lake Carter. The warmer, drier people in the boat were shouting helpful things like "lock your arms!" and "don't forget to keep your knees bent when you straighten them!" Thanks guys!

I finally managed to wrestle my unwieldy, and extremely buoyant skis into what I figured was pretty close to the correct position. Then I yelled "hit it!" as the cue to fire up the boat. This is really when the wheels, or rather the skis, fell off the wagon! I rocketed out of my skis, hit my head on the water, and got so disoriented that I forgot to let go of the rope and ended up getting dragged underwater for long enough to flood my head with the entire lake. Tell me again how this is fun?

But the fun didn't stop there! Oh no, later that night, after I got home, my ears started to hurt really bad. So I applied some drying drops, which not only didn't help, but made my ears feel like I'd been shot clean through my head!

The moral of the story is: Anyone who tries to get me to snow ski this winter...go jump in a lake. I hear Lake Carter is nice.