April 14

Yesterday was the ides of April. (Yes April has one too, on the 13th, but Shakespeare didn't care, so why should you?) Spent a restful, breezy night in resurgent trades behind protective reef, however, can't seem to sleep past 0630.

Today, after dispensing with pleasantries of leisurely desayuno at Mangos Cafe, eventually engaged in unpleasantries attendant to decontamination of shower sump, head, sinks and dust bunnynators. Mostly goofed off with Kindle e-book reader reading, oddly enough, and perusing Amazon offerings. Bought all the cheap stuff e.g. three volumes of The World's Greatest Books (digest) for nada plus all the works of Arthur Conan Doyle, Charles Dickens and Mark Twain for about $6. Boat is pristine within the scope of my understanding of that term.

Have entered a period of decompression after a day and a half without visual contact with any long-time friends. 'Long-time' meaning as much as six weeks. A very, very long time ago. That was like, February of 2009 and this is like, the middle of April. Dude!

Will now be off the boat for at least three days, but quell that hopeful anticipation. Messages are possible using the internet via Airmail's telnet service. I know no mercy. No, no. Then again, might be too lazy. Mercy!

Must stop now to pack for temporary transition to dirt dwelling as Liz and I explore Puerto Rico from a hotel in Old San Juan. Fear runs rampant. Motionless beds are scary. Are they dead or just lying in wait until their victims are asleep?

Jack