parties, hangovers, and staying warm

What do you do, exactly, with a drunken sailor early in the morning?

Well, a sober person drives her home and she sleeps fitfully as alarms go off at random times throughout the night, and then at around 6:30 the youth activities coordinator comes on over the shipwide PA to wake up the boy scouts on the bunks in the forward crew berths and she holds a pillow over her head until the overwhelming patter of little feet is no longer audible, and then at 11am she forces herself to get up, shower, and go to the post office.

not as exciting as the song makes it out to be.

What led to this pathetic state? The last day of work for said sober person (don't ask me why she stayed sober--i had nothing to do with that) that ended in a visit to the crew's home bar--One Eyed Mike's--and a party back at her house. I met her flatmates, which included three adults, one pregnant belly, two dogs and a kitten, and along with three captains, another mate, a captain's wife, and a keg of leftover local brew, I proceeded to make a complete ass of myself. I think. I do recall having a very poignant and helpful conversation with my captain, who was about as drunk as me, who reassured me that i shouldn't worry about being included in this crowd, as they've all been friends for eons and it was a good sign that they'd invited an outsider to their party at all. These people had a gorgeous townhouse--all hardwood, with a fun clawfooted tub and a peaked skylight in the bathroom, a spacious floorplan and a tidy yard--and if anything was broken i'm sure it could be mended. I appreciated their generosity immensely--not only did they provide everyone with beer--"it may be a little flat, which is why we've got to get rid of it." "hey, if flat equals free!"--but they also made snacks and a little dinner, going even to the extent of making a vegetarian option. that's generous, especially seeing as I think we kinda invaded without much forewarning. I'm not privy to the specifics, but as it all started with an open invitation at the bar...

Anyway. this ship is freeeeezing. My hands, normally dexterous at the keyboard, are stiff and unresponsive. I've been burrowed in my bed all morning, shivering and drinking coffee, trying to stay warm against all odds--i'm in a solid steel ship with no insulation and a pathetic old heating system, floating lazily against the pier with all the doors open for tours. They've hung plastic strips to block some of the wind, but the cold air still slips in with little opposition. i found a way to run an ethernet cable from the router two rooms down into my room thanks to the wonder of huge, gaping holes drilled in all the walls, so while the cable just barely reaches the end of my bed, i'm not huddled on a filthy bare mattress in the room i had originally found a jack in. (a wireless router would be hilariously useless aboard Taney).

And now, some random thoughts:

hours of using a buff-master to de-burr the deck of an historic skipjack vibrates the nerve endings of your hands into really enjoying the feeling of soap. washing my hands has never been more fun!

leave it to the wonders of the universe to provide you with three interviews one week after starting a job. three interviews...from companies you applied with back in October.

the weather in Baltimore yesterday was bizarre and beautiful. I sat at a red light in town, surrounded by yellow skies, with a hailstorm pounding my back window, with a clear, dry windshield and a view of a gorgeous full rainbow.