Sometime last week, I was on a boat. Thursday? Monday? Who knows. When you’re on a boat, time stands still, but that’s the only thing. Everything else moves. The horizon, the floor, your stomach, everything you’ve eaten since August…it all moves. Sometimes violently. I don’t know why. Gravitational pull, or something.
The boat tour was a part of Franks Family Christmas 2012. Merriem’s mom and dad graciously took the whole family on a cruise as our Christmas gift. Caribbean Christmas, perhaps. A Santa at Sea, if you will.
It was perfect timing, when you think about it. The cruise industry had gotten some great press just a few hours before we embarked, and we were looking forward to our very first cruise ever, especially when we knew that there were red biohazard bags on board that we could…um…disembark in.
And we’ve been back now for several days. Two? Five? Again, I don’t know. I’m not even sure what day it is. And I absolutely can’t figure out who installed hydraulic moving thingies in my office while I was gone.
And why my computer is spinning.
And why nobody is serving me pizza at 3 in the morning.
Later this week, I’ll reengage with a few thoughts on what cruise culture taught me. Until then, I’m going to hold on to something that’s not moving.