My floral-printed tourist and I are home.
I only cried twice on vacation. And I discovered that I have a tich of clausterphobia. Both crying games were in and because of our teensy-tiny interior stateroom cruise ship room.
I wanted to be able to un-hoity myself and travel without pretenses. But the tears, they betrayed my good intentions.
The first tears came as I tried to make peace with the size and lack of window/fresh air in our room.
My Mister filmed that little breakdown, all the while patting me and telling me “there there.” And then I got the blubbering under control and told myself it would all be okay, and then I felt the walls closing in on me and started crying again. Ugly crying, Reader, not just a few simple tears.
The room was pretty small. Bed against the wall, only one way out – over the other person. Here it is from the doorway…which really photographs larger than it appeared in real life, once two bodies were inserted into that picture.
So yeah, small. Tear-worthy, apparently.
I guess I am hoity. We slept. A lot. A whole lot. Because we couldn’t tell if it was day or night once we went to bed, so we just kept sleeping and sleeping.
But occasionally we did get up and step outside. And saw this:
Which we liked and made me happy.
I would not do well in prison. At all. Nope. Although I pretended I was locked up and doing some hard time, and then we played conjugal visits so it wasn’t totally without merit.