My luck's running pretty hot this week.
Got the new house in FL (in theory. Contract is not yet in hand), Got a little money back in taxes for the first time since grad school, and work's light this week.
A thing about the last. After completing my next voyage, I believe that will make it 20 of the last 23 weeks I'll have been aboard. Goddamn. I'm lucky I'm still married. Around Christmas my wife put her foot down and told me in no uncertain terms to come home more. My view has been that I should work when there's work available, and it's hard to leave money on the table unclaimed, but that had to change.
What happened was that there was kidnapping in my neighborhood back in the late fall. The campus around the Ant Farm has become a Section 8 enclave over the past 3 years thanks to a foul ability to bypass zoning laws in Massachusetts for low-income housing construction... and then one of these douchbags kidnaps a kid, perhaps 1/4 mile from my home.
Game changer. Thank Christ the kid was found quickly, but shamefully the kidnapper was arrested alive.
Anyhow, Inappropriately Hot Foreign Wife stamped her 6-inch heeled foot and said no to moving to Maine. Florida was my 2nd choice, and hers, too, so we did some homework, and went down there about 2 weeks ago to look at houses.
So there we are. Looks like I'm moving to FL. As for my new home, ocean on one side, a little pond in the back yard, seems nice.
The thing is, I'm fried. I've been here too much, and I'm all, as my friend Johnny Sparks says, 'all cunty.'
I am. 20 out of 23 weeks. By agreement, I wanted to pay cash for the move and not drain down our savings, so I've been working extra, when I should be home. The wife agreed, and now I'm really on the home stretch. When I get off, in 4 1/2 more weeks, I'm moving, and I'm taking some extra days, too, to do it. Gotta.
As for being burnt out, I'm working aboard a beautiful, well-made diesel barge, and the workload is light. I've been able to go for a 4-5 mile walk every day in Brooklyn, which has been great for my routine and well-being. Yesterday we got moved to an anchorage, so that stopped. Today we're actually rafted up to HAWSEPIPER's Afloat Global HQ/somebody else's headache, so I went ashore to go to Easter mass, then get groceries and get my walk in. Didn't make myself too popular as far as calling for a 3,000 hp taxi, but I figure that they've been asking me to work extra, I've been saying yes, and goddamn if I haven't earned an employer-assisted ride to church just the once.
Easter mass did nothing for my foul language. I didn't get to go to fuckin' confession.
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