This summer we went on a cruise. It was fun. I don't know about spending 5 days on a boat with 2000 other people, but other than that it was fun. One night we were laying in bed after a hard day of eating, sunbathing, and reading and I couldn't fall asleep. I started to listen to the rhythmic thumping coming from somewhere is the ship, hoping that it would lull me to sleep. As I listened to the thumping I asked myself what the thumping might be, and whether it was a normal sound or not. Before I knew it I had a small movie playing in my head, a movie that was somewhat like Titanic.
In this movie, the thumping was not normal, but was the sound of tragedy looming just ahead, and I just happened to be able to hear it. Soon our cruise director would come over the intercom and instruct us to calmly make our way to the appropriate deck areas, which would mean that 2000 people would begin a panicked sprint to the lifeboats. Rusty and I, of course, would not be exempt from the panicked sprint, and we would take off too. It was then in the movie that I thought about my wardrobe, a perfectly appropriate thought to have while in the belly of a sinking ship. I was struck with an even deeper sense of terror, for if the thumping was truly the sound of tragedy looming just ahead and if we really were going to be called out to the lifeboats, then I would be stuck on a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean without any pants.
After a few fruitless minutes of convincing myself that everything was fine, I got up and found my pajama pants. I fell asleep soon after and woke the next morning, thinking to myself "Well, that was sort of dramatic....but I'm wearing pants to bed tonight."
Last night I worked on the girls' wing. If the boys' wing is like working with a bunch of wild monkeys that have been fed a straight diet of sugar and crack, then the girls' wing is like working with a bunch of brooding cats, equally likely to either snuggle up and purr or quickly scratch out your eyes.
The girls are master complainers. They are very dramatic. They frequently say " Oh! I'm just going to DIE!" I must be a girl. Last night was no exception. We had a staff meeting, which meant that from 6:30 to 8:00 volunteers would come to watch the kids for a while. About 40 minutes into the staff meeting we got a call that there was a tornado warning in effect and those working needed to run back to the emergency building to be with the kids.
For the next three hours (THREE HOURS!) ten girls, two staff and one volunteer were crammed into the tiny hallway just outside the bathroom. The complaining, it was incredible. The drama, even more incredible. The lights flickered twice. Around ten we made the decision to move the beds by the windows into the hallway, and let the kids go to sleep.
After everything, all the stress and yelling and whining, when the kids were finally asleep, I thought to myself "But what about their shoes? Shouldn't we put the kids shoes by them in case the building crashes down and they need them?" Practical should be my middle name.