With just a week left here in this office and a boat waiting patiently for me up north, I'm finding it hard to do anything other than count the very minutes that are left between this here and now and that long anticipated then, when I am finally aboard. It came to me this morning on my way to work that it verges on the obscene, the idea that one can even be allowed to dream of a life so good as that which I will soon move into. It is a wicked pleasure for which there must be some suitable and undoubtedly deserved punishment for allowing myself to think of it. So it feels in a worker bee town, rolling along the conveyor belt into work for the day along with all those around me. I wonder what it will be, this punishment of mine? It's certain that in time, all will be revealed to me.