A little land time goes a long way

Bly and Rigby on St. Patrick's Day.

If the upside of this strange, small floating community is intimacy, then the downside is the lack of privacy. Given my satisfaction with the way the previous evening ended, you might be surprised to learn that on my day off, the only thing I wanted was to be completely alone.

The City of Savannah has booked us a hotel room for every night we're in town. We use it for showers, but the crew also rotates through so that everyone gets to sleep there once a week. I had been anticipating that I would get the hotel room on Sunday night, since the old cook had been on the rotation and got Sunday, and since Monday is the cook’s only day off. Let me say that again: it's the only day I get to sleep in. 

Well, I could have the room – but I would have to share it with Rigby. Don’t get me wrong. He’s a nice guy. (The washwoman at the hotel across the street even went so far as to call him sexy.) But having Rigby in the opposite bed was not my idea of being alone. I would be more alone in my bunk. I was tired. I was a little peeved. And I wasn’t thinking. I booked my own room at the Westin. Where I slept. And took a bath. And then spent six hours on Monday doing my taxes.

Then I went to the gym and ran four miles. As I lay in the sauna, I couldn't help thinking about all hotels I've stayed in, all the workout rooms I've used, and the fact that my mother said I'd really miss all that once I left my corporate job. Okay, so maybe I have. Just a little.