When you drive to the cruise ship, packing light isn’t really required. At first, I was stuffing everything into my backpack, then I realized I didn’t need to. So out came the “big” suitcase with wheels. If we head north—and if I manage not to spill my drink down my shirt—I might not even have to wash clothes out in the shower.
I’m leaving the computer behind this time. I need a little downtime. Books will be read, bats will be folded, and naps will be taken.
Now I wonder—if we do make it to Canada, will they even let us in? Especially after yesterday’s embarrassing show at the UN. He is a sick, old, demented man. It’s only a matter of time. Nobody is promised tomorrow. Not even presidents.