are we there yet?

Never have I fought so hard for so little sleep.

It's two in the morning, and all I want to do is rest. Instead, I'm being tossed around my cabin, woken up at frequent intervals by creakings and crashings all over the ship, my body pulled back and forth by the incessant pitch and roll of my floating world. This, my friends, is not what I signed up for.

It started last night when the ship started to encounter something the captain is referring to as Big Swell. To my less-seaworthy self, that's code for Dear God, Please Let This Be Over Soon, or Why Ferries Should Not Sail on the Open Sea.

I took these photos yesterday at sunrise, standing on the far side of Deck Eight, when all the rocking and rolling was still mildly entertaining. There's maybe a three second gap between the two, illustrating quite profoundly (if I do say so myself) why flat-bottomed train ferries should most likely not be sailing around on the big blue ocean, however smooth that ocean may look to the untrained eye.

Yesterday was funny, in a sort of I didn't get any sleep, but I'm going to enjoy this anyway kind of way. People staggered through the halls, leaning at crazy angles to offset the rolling, and with each big heave, something, somewhere would hit the ground. Small children, who didn't have any sense of how to compensate, wove back and forth across the floors, their steps directed for them. Plates slid back and forth on the tables, and with each lurch I felt a little less like I wanted to be a part of all of this.

Tonight, I'm just tired. HoJ and I are attempting to sleep sideways across our bed, hoping that a side-to-side roll will be more successful than the head-to-toe one that left us sorely sleep-deprived last night. Thus far, I've got nothing to report, other than the obvious; it's two in the morning, and I'm blogging. Because the ship has plans for me, and I'm pretty sure they don't include peaceful slumber.

Are we there yet?