7 down, 23 to go - but who’s counting?
I’ve got a brief break before I go for my second, and last, dive of the day and this week.
The worst part of this is the solitude. Funny, I like my solitude and I enjoy driving long stretches of old highway with no one in the car with me - like in 2003 when I drove the Lincoln Highway from New York to San Francisco in a Model A, with no radio and no companion.
The difference here is that the solitude is forced - no radio, no companion, and no gas station just ahead where I can stop for a quick pit stop and maybe get a glass of milk.
Once the door shuts, that’s it for almost two hours of solitude. And I’m not in control, the guy outside with his hand on the air compressor control is the guy in charge and I’m at his mercy until the pressure goes back down.
I finished Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale today, in the tank. I highly recommend the book but I finished it before the dive ended. Luckily, I have another book to accompany me on the this afternoon’s dive.
I wish I could sleep in there, but the collar that holds the helmet on is not exactly a bastion of comfort, especially for getting comfortable. Reclining is impossible with that (*&^%#! helmet, so I’m going to try a different type of pillow today and see it I can snooze for awhile. An old pastor of mine, Bob Jones, once said, “The shortest distance between two points is a good snooze.” As long as someone else is driving, and when I dive, Dave is doing the driving.
I’m also having trouble with my left ear not balancing, or “popping” when I go up and down in pressure. I hope it’s not a symptom of some other problem that I am not aware of.
Well, off into the wild, blue not-so-yonder.