Take your time, my friend. Wait for your moment.

No rush. Bit of a line forming, but it’s cool. Breathe.

On the board, as in life, Ernie, one must move ever forward. Toward the end of the board.

Go ahead and plop right in, spider-like. It doesn’t have to be pretty; it just has to be. My swimsuit is starting to dry out.

One bounce, buddy. One. Bounce.

Got a bit of a failure to launch situation here, fella. Someday, like 50 years from now, when your kid moves back home with a $320,000 B.A. to become a sourdough influencer and owes you nine months back rent on her childhood bedroom, you’ll understand what that means. This is beginning to feel like that.

I know it seems like everyone is watching. Trust me when I tell you that most people here are too wrapped up in their own insecurities like, “Why did I punt that shareholder presentation to the last minute?” or “Do those pants I bought make me look like a cowboy, but not in a good way?” to pay much attention to you. The rest of the people? Yeah, they’re lookin’ right at ‘cha pal. You gonna jump or what?

When someday, somehow you actually hit the water, you might feel like you’re drowning for a hot sec, so here’s some advice: Tread water until someone throws out an arm or a lifeline or whispers you the answer to where Eswatini is on the geography quiz because that someone knows you’re failing geography and that someone is kind. Remember, it’s not your fault that kindness gets detention! Just keep moving your arms and legs around until it looks like swimming.

Relax, Ern, you’re not going to hit the bottom. That’s years away yet. When you haven’t dressed or left the house for a week; when the ashtrays are full and the Maker’s bottle is empty; when the body pillow you’ve been comfort-hugging like a Squishmallow is sopping with tears of regret and remorse; when you’re psychically weighed down with missed opportunities, bad luck, bad choices, and one—one!—bad night at the Bellagio in Vegas (those Dale Chihuly chandeliers are real my friend, so you know, make a note), then, yeah, you might feel your piggies scrape the concrete a bit. But you look like the buoyant type.

Walk with me Ernie. Just back and forth here on the board, nice and easy. What’s holding you back, man? Money? I can open a tab for you at the snack shack like that. My credit is still good here. I think. I got onion instead of tomato on my BLT earlier, but I let the right people know about it and I’m reasonably certain that that kind of screw-up won’t happen again. At least not to me, since it has come to my attention that today is my last day at the pool.

So, what do you say, Ernie? Shall we jump into the drink together? You’ll never feel so free. It’ll be just like Thelma & Louise, except rather than plunge to our deaths, we’ll sink into five seconds of soundless blue. Sure, pencil or cannonball or can opener, whatever. The world is your oyster, Ernie.

Jump already, wouldja? Then we can go get a Marathon Bar.