Talk about depressing

This week a year ago I was on a trip to San Diego, then a cruise in the Mexican Riviera.

I was finding bathrooms hard to come by--specially with toilet paper and then running water.
I was hover-planing it.
I was watching the terrible practice of syrup application to cheese omelets.
I was stressing about leaving my Murano in a rental lot.
I was getting blissfully sun burnt.
I was getting ripped off by little swindlers--er I mean children in Acapulco.
I was blowing salt water out my nose after taking a thrashing by a wave and washing up on shore in a number of compromising positions in Ixtapa.
I was getting smacked in the face with flippers.
I was getting a mild case of sun stroke on a real crappy "nature hike".
I was finding sand in various unmentionable places.
I was getting seasick in the dining room and trying not to wretch in the theater.
I was cursing the weather as the winds blew so hard and cold they closed the upper decks.
I was spending a lot of time indoors watching karaoke and playing games with the old folks.
I was gaining 15 pounds on shrimp, melted chocolate cake, and unlimited sodas.
I was getting harangued by Mexican merchants trying to sell me things made in China.


You know... come to think of it---maybe I'm not AS depressed as I thought!

(Who am I kidding. Yes I am. This was a lesson in futility. I'm trying to talk myself into it.)