Mr. Bill is coming to town. That would be Tropical Storm Bill. It is due in town on Friday and will cap off what will have been one very wet week. Not that we really needed the rain. My sub-pump is running regularly and the local rivers are already in flood and more rain will only make this situation worse. It’s too bad that some of this rain couldn’t be sent out to California, where it is needed. The neighbor boy is at scout camp this week. I really feel sorry for him.
I’m counting down the days until my summer vacation begins, but it is still a ways away. As per usual, it will involve a cabin in the woods, lying on the beach and bicycling, lots of bicycling. I’ll probably do some kayaking too. After last summer’s near fatal wedding boating accident (hypothermia), I’ve been looking into wetsuits. They are surprisingly inexpensive and would offer thermal protection against Lake Superior’s frigid waters. What I am not planning on doing this summer vacation is taking a cruise, no matter how many more sales catalogs Oceania Cruises sends me.
I must have received fifty catalogs from them already. This is no exaggeration and all were sent within the last year. I don’t know if I am the right demographic or if someone gave them my name, but all of a sudden now, I am on their radar. Don’t get me wrong, if I was interested in taking a cruise, their cruises look very nice, except that I get bored on short ferry rides. Oh, and all of their cruises seem rather horribly expensive to me. The cheapest one I found while perusing their latest catalog was a Caribbean cruise for the discounted price of $2,000 per person. The retail price of $7,000 per person is also disclosed, just so that you know what a great deal you are getting. Two grand buys you a windowless cabin, probably in steerage. The scene from the movie Titanic keeps coming to mind, the one where the Irish immigrants are trapped below deck, behind steel gates, in rising waters. I could assuage this class fear, by plunking down $36,000 for a pair of tickets to the Owner’s Suite. That’s a lot of money that I might only consider if my doctor had told me that I only had six months to live, but then I would have eleven days and ten nights to sit around and stew about my imminent demise. Better to drop the money on a new car and then drive off a cliff then spend even a fraction of that money on a three-hour tour…
Just sit right back
And you’ll hear a tale
A tale of a fateful trip,
That started from this tropic port,
Aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailin’ lad,
The Skipper brave and sure,
Five passengers set sail that day,
For a three hour tour,
A three hour tour.
Gilligan’s Island Theme Song