I continue to fill my time in the usual ways, walking and drinking being the bookends, with blogging and napping occupying the space in between. I used to feel like I was wasting what was left of my life by not engaging in more meaningful activities during my retirement years, but lately, I’ve come to accept that I’m in my comfort zone, and if this is all there is, then that will be enough. That’s not to say I’m not receptive to any opportunities to change my life that may come along, but in the meantime, I won’t lament the things I don’t have. I’ve actually come to appreciate the value of my solitary life, boring though it may be. There are worse things than being alone, and I’m not convinced that the relationship I’ve craved in my imagination is worth the drama that seems inherent when you open your heart to another.
That’s my initial thinking, anyway. As Joni Mitchell sang all those years ago, “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ’till it’s gone…” We’ll see if any of the women currently vying for my attention are able to change my mind.
When it was time for my evening entertainment, I took a walk out to Baloy Beach.
In its previous iteration, the food delivered on board the floating bar came from Treasure Island. This year, the menu was from Lagoon. It’s okay, but not one of my favorites. So, instead of eating on the floater, I went to Treasure Island when I disembarked.
After my meal, I walked back to the highway and stopped at Snackbar for my nightcap. Haven’t been there in a while; there is too much drama with some of the staff. Last night was fine, though. Even Lydell, the gal I dated a couple of times, was sweet to me. She surprised me by playing “Cotton Eye Joe” and inviting me to do some country swing dancing with her. It was actually quite fun, and she earned herself a couple of lady drinks.
And then, it was time to go home, so I grabbed a trike. Made me a smoothie and then hit the sack. Fitbit says I was asleep at 8:30. That’s the way this old man rolls these days.
I probably speculated about this before, but at a guess, once you’re on the floating bar, and you suddenly need to hit the men’s room, there’s either
(a) no solution or
(b) a gross solution.
Pity the poor bartender(s). How do they go to the bathroom?
Pulled-pork sandwich looks almost like a hash brown. Yikes.
How’s John doing these days?
Seems like the good life indeed. Finding that place of comfort. Too bad they got that thing up and running after I left, that would have been super-fun.
Yeah, it’s something different. I like the vibe of drinking on the water.
There is a CR on board. Only for urination, you have to go ashore to poop. They haul the piss container back to shore every day and empty it in an approved waste disposal system. Contrary to some skeptics, it does not go into the bay–at least not directly.
I haven’t seen John in person since he was released from the hospital, but his FB posts indicate he is back to business. Maybe I’ll go by tonight for dinner.
“A Clean, Well-Lighted Place”
Yes, I am very familiar with that Hemingway story, Nate. We studied it in one of my college literature classes, and here I am now, an old man with better to do in life than find a clean, well-lighted place to relax.
“What did he fear? It was not a fear or dread, It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee.”