Homecoming

I remember this routine: wake up to beeping, coffee, bagel, shower, BART, work-emails-meetings, beer, cigarettes, chatting, BART, music-home-sleep. Repeat. The key is to keep the work to a slow hum and to keep the rest at a roar. The further you get from a vacation, the harder this is - so it remains to be seen if I have the composition to keep it up. I'm hoping inertia will keep the ball rolling for me for a while.

Life. Is. Too. Short.

It's all prep for the following:

Saturday morning. Woken up by the dog - he's huge enough that the drool runs from his mouth in little rivers of saliva. Grab the leash and head outside to get coffee and breakfast. Come back home with a tired dog and some fresh bread and cheese. Grab dog, coffee, food and book. Head out to the back and load it all into the boat. Cast off for the day and tool around the canals until the sun sets.

I'm moving to Amsterdam. One day it will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine. One of these days I won't be a stoned tourist watching people float by on their boats with their dogs. I'll be watching the stoned tourists from my boat. And yes, it will be flying the pirate flag.