Summer breeze, makes me feel fine

As I type, a massive beast of an American bulldog named Lucy slumbers at my side. In my first two weeks at the Palm Beach Post, I earned enough trust to dog-sit for a sports reporter for the entire weekend. It's a decent gig: pool in the yard with a dophin fountain that shoots water out of its... you know... mouth, cable, Internet, handfulls of honey-roasted peanuts I keep stealing out of her cupboard and, when I'm done, 80 bones (get it? HA!)
The bad part is that I'm allergic to dogs. I thought, "hey, I like dogs. Maybe I'm not allergic to them anymore. Maybe I can fight through its tangled web of shedded fur, and just "get over" this allergy" Well, I was wrong and I've been sneezing the whole time. It really seemed like a good idea at the time. But the pooch is pretty nice and it doesn't bark too much. It smells a little funny, but I need to get used to that before I move in with Dirk (ZING!).
So for the last two days, Lucy and I have spent a couple hours at the dog park. We've layed around the pool and watched the dolphin do its work. We've played poker in our underpants. AND, we've both slept a ton. Just yesterday I was looking up movie times on the Internet and she mosied on over and rested her head on my lap. The touching sight brought a tear to my eye, but soon I realized the tears were a result of my allergies.
In the few instances I've been able to step away from dog-sitting this weekend, I've enjoyed some of Palm Beach's fine luxuries. I went to the beach Friday morning and got a wicked sunburn, but it was worth it to bask in the sweet sunshine and dive down between the Atlantic's rolling waves. I was so inspired that I bought full snorkeling gear the next afternoon (an adventure for another time). Last night, I went with a couple of young reporters to a house party that a photographer was throwing. After that, they took to me O'Sheas, a pub in downtown WPB that is to the Palm Beach Post what the Peanut Barrel is to The State News. We sipped fine Irish lagers beneath a canopy of stringed lights on the bar's back patio. They told me of some great spots to try my new snorkeling gear. I got a bit drunk and had a great night.
On the way home, I stopped by the bay to say goodnight to Manny the Manatee. He was feasting on a bed of lush green seagrass with a comely female manatee. He shouted "Ahoy, young Jordan" and sent over a wave with his blubbery flipper. I didn't want to intrude, so I wished them both a good night and returned to the apartment where the dog slept.