Fortnightly Weigh-in: I've lost a paltry one point eight pounds (1.8 lbs.), but unsatisfactory as that is it is better than having gained the same amount of weight. I am relieved, since I've felt unusually stressed in the last fortnight, an most unwelcome sensation in my deliberately stress-free life, & I have always known myself to turn to food (amongst other vices) for succor. I am seventeen point six pounds lighter than I was when regular record-keeping began in November. This is insufficient progress, but it is progress nonetheless. Onward!
The next nine days promise to be particularly stressful. This should be an excellent opportunity to master myself, to demonstrate that the moment's circumstances do not dictate my humor.
"But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
The Rebel Black Dot Sea Shanty of the Day
The Pogues, "The Irish Rover" from The Best of the Pogues (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Never let facts get in the way of a good yarn.
"'Twas a wonderful craft,
She was rigged fore and aft,
And o how the wild wind drove her!
She stood several blasts,
She had twenty-seven masts,
And they called her the Irish Rover!…"
2 comments:
I find myself wondering how big a ship would need to be to justify and accomodate 27 masts.
How big would a ship need to be to justify & accommodate twenty-seven masts? Methinks volume is the proper measure of such a ship's size, rather than length or displacement. How big then, in volume? Six or seven kegs of stout should do it.
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