Essay — At Sea

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If you’re reading this and wondering where I am–I’m at sea. This is supposed to be a vacation, but don’t be fooled. I’m really checking out future living arrangements.

Several magazines that landed on Carpenter Country’s doorstep in the past few months have advised gearing up for that inevitable day when brain drain sets in full time and I start forgetting how to handle my money and can’t remember where I live. Hopefully, before that happens, I’ll have signed myself into a nursing home.

Meanwhile I still have choices.

So far, I’ve researched assisted living facilities and upscale hotels.

My mother was in assisted living and didn’t find it too bad. There was transportation, games, exercise, an activities director who played the piano, and someone to do the cooking and cleaning.

The upscale hotel idea also had merit, but only if it was in a big city. I could use cabs to get around, eat at fancy restaurants, and find plenty of entertainment right outside my front door.

And then there’s this cruise ship, which is my current cabin-mate’s idea of the ideal retirement setting. As she keeps telling me, what could be better than gourmet food, housekeeping services, a doctor on board, and recreation that includes sunning, swimming, shows, shopping, gambling, and island hopping?

I’m thinking she has a point, but hey, we’re on a Carnival ship, and until we reach our home port without encountering any incidents, issues or malfunctions–

–I refuse to make a commitment.


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We write. Visit us in Carpenter Country, a magical place that, like our stories, is unreal but not untrue.

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