It’s the last night, thank God.  All of a sudden I am SO READY to be home.  Maybe two weeks on a ship is too long.  We are talking about maybe only doing one week sails to a destination, enjoying our time there and then flying home.  At the risk of sounding ungrateful and bitchy – oh, why not – this is why I will be so glad to get home tomorrow.

I’m in the internet cafe.  Listening to the piano player/singer guy in Crooner’s Cafe singing the SAME SONGS HE’S BEEN SINGING SINCE DAY ONE.  Really.  The first night it was lovely – he’s got a nice voice.  But now….

The people.  I’m sure they are tired of me, too.  Always in the way.  Always there.  Always talking.  Always saying the stupidest things on the planet.  Always alive.  Did I mention always there?  I need to remember my limitations and desire to be alone – really alone – for a period of time every two or three days.  I am ready to go on a silent retreat.  I have warned Al that he mustn’t take it personally for the next few days.  

I just about had a meltdown when I realized we were in “group number 4” to get off the ship tomorrow morning and that if we had decided to “self-help” which meant carry our own bags off we could get off right away.  I called passenger services and was told it was “too late” to change my mind.  Nothing spurs a man into action like a woman bursting into tears of frustration.  Well, sometimes they don’t give a damn but Al, who had just stepped out of the shower, threw on some clothes and went downstairs and we will be carrying our own stuff and will be off this ship first thing. I don’t know what personal urgency he claimed but I don’t care.  I simply could not “please be out of your room by 8:30” and then hang out in public area until 10 a.m.  

OK, rest assured we did relax the last two days on a deck chair, snoozing and reading.  Al has consistently beaten me at every game we have played – backgammon, cribbage, gin.  However, when I challenged him to ping pong today, it is clear that the old gal has not lost her touch.  I kicked his ass repeatedly as I always have. My serve is hard to handle.  Back in the day in SF we had a table and there was only one person who could beat me of the many challengers who came through.  

Well, this really is the end of the Island Princess chronicles.  The piano dude is now singing “Let Me Go Home” which sounds rather familiar and could not be more appropriate.  It’s really been a great trip all in all.  I just need a personal yacht with healthy food and no other people on it, and I’ll be just fine…

The ship turns into a pumpkin in a few hours and I’ll go back to real clothes and real food and Ed the Dog and routine and I guess that’s what makes me happy after all…