I get to do a lot of really great things working on a cruise ship, but the best thing is turning another page on the calendar that hangs on my bathroom door. My in-laws created a lovely personalized calendar for the year 2011 with pictures of family and friends, and turning those pages over one month at a time brings a happiness like no other. All the sunbathing, mud volcano swimming, turtle watching & zip lining doesn’t compare to the thrill of the countdown. I appreciate and enjoy the aforementioned events, but as the light at the end of the tunnel gets larger by the day, so does the realization that I’m going home.
To make this event a daily occurrence, I have two day-to-day calendars that I cross off every evening. One is a cruise long schedule, and one a list of which ports we’re in on what day. If Adam beats me to it, I am envious. First of all, he crosses off the days with a messy, uneven line, and doesn’t say my line “one day closer to getting off this tub!” with the same enthusiasm I do. I cross each day off with a smooth elegance of black Sharpie™ bliss. I do love my job, but the reality of surprising my niece when I pick her up from school, or enjoying that first bite of Mom-made dinner (I am requesting Shepherds Pie please!) can’t be beat by anything. I know that six weeks later I’ll be panicked as my bank account depletes with each trip to Shopper’s Drug Mart, but approaching the end of a contract is always exciting and full of anticipation. Will my suitcases bare the weight of 12 months of purchases? Will my luggage survive the 4 layovers I’m sure to get flying from the northern most point of Alaska? Am I ready to go back to land and pay bills, drive a car and find a place to live?
The past seven years, those last few things have never been an issue. Living contract to contract on ships I’ve been happy to crash in my parents basement or on the couches of generous friends, but this time I’m most excited to settle and enjoy land life for a while. A long while. My husband and I spent a total of 5 weeks out of 12 months in our first apartment together, and while cabin 5728 has been great for us, we’re ready for a permanent address that’s less than 8 lines and doesn’t contain a vessel name or “c/o” label.
I currently have 68 days, or 2 more page turns until I even think about packing or surprising anyone, so I’ll just take it day by day, and stroke my Sharpie™ cleanly across the page and enjoy the days as they come.
But honestly, who’s counting?
To make this event a daily occurrence, I have two day-to-day calendars that I cross off every evening. One is a cruise long schedule, and one a list of which ports we’re in on what day. If Adam beats me to it, I am envious. First of all, he crosses off the days with a messy, uneven line, and doesn’t say my line “one day closer to getting off this tub!” with the same enthusiasm I do. I cross each day off with a smooth elegance of black Sharpie™ bliss. I do love my job, but the reality of surprising my niece when I pick her up from school, or enjoying that first bite of Mom-made dinner (I am requesting Shepherds Pie please!) can’t be beat by anything. I know that six weeks later I’ll be panicked as my bank account depletes with each trip to Shopper’s Drug Mart, but approaching the end of a contract is always exciting and full of anticipation. Will my suitcases bare the weight of 12 months of purchases? Will my luggage survive the 4 layovers I’m sure to get flying from the northern most point of Alaska? Am I ready to go back to land and pay bills, drive a car and find a place to live?
The past seven years, those last few things have never been an issue. Living contract to contract on ships I’ve been happy to crash in my parents basement or on the couches of generous friends, but this time I’m most excited to settle and enjoy land life for a while. A long while. My husband and I spent a total of 5 weeks out of 12 months in our first apartment together, and while cabin 5728 has been great for us, we’re ready for a permanent address that’s less than 8 lines and doesn’t contain a vessel name or “c/o” label.
I currently have 68 days, or 2 more page turns until I even think about packing or surprising anyone, so I’ll just take it day by day, and stroke my Sharpie™ cleanly across the page and enjoy the days as they come.
But honestly, who’s counting?
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