Well, I've decided to keep going for another week. My current instinct is to plop on the couch with mindless TV and bales of yarn and knit, just knit and watch whatever I want to on the tube, but that's not real practical. For one thing, my boss probably won't hand deliver my paycheck and probably won't pay me if I stop showing up. Oh, that's two things, isn't it? I don't want to eat anything that's healthy or requires preparation beyond shoving a pizza in the oven, and I'd really rather not sweat. Bah, I hate it when I feel like this. Don't mind me, I'll just be here in my cave.
July 11--Cook Islands. The water felt like warm silk as Raine waded in to go snorkeling. She put on her fins once she was hip deep in the light surge of the lagoon, spit in and rinsed her mask to keep it from fogging, and settled it over her eyes and nose. The dangling snorkel mouthpiece was comfortable in her mouth as she took an experimental breath before leaning forward and lying on the water's surface. Small flicks of her fins propelled her out into the deeper water over the reef where fish like the shifting rainbows thrown by crystals in the sunlight went about the business of eating and mating and staying out of bigger fishes' gullets. The water was so clear that Raine felt a momentary vertigo as she glided over a drop off. She realized that it must be what it felt like to fly. The thought sent a little thrill through her middle and down her legs. She had always wished to be a bird and now she could pretend to be one.
Not much going on there, just some pretty pictures. Boring.