I am all set to go diving. My rebreather is sitting by the door, undergoing the negative pressure test. This is my first time (diving) in a long time. I can’t wait. I am very eager to go.
I have another stupid theory to bounce off-a-ya. My theory is that diving makes me sane, the longer I go without diving, the more insane I become. Actually I don’t think it’s the diving, but an element of the diving. I think something in diving cleanses the mind.
Last week at work I was stressing real bad and I thought, “gee, it would be nice if I was married, because sex would be a perfect way to use this stress, and If I was married, (or had a steady girlfriend) then I could go home and have sex.” then I started thinking about how I might actually start to WANT to have bad days, then I could go home after work-
me: “Honey! I’m home! I had a REAL BAD day at work!”
her: “Oh goody! I’m glad! I’m right here! in the bedroom! I can make it alllll better!”
This probably happens for everybody all the time but me. You’re probably thinking “he doesn’t already know this??! Uh- no, I just thunk of it!
Anyway, after diving, I’m going back to work, I worked yesterday, took that new board that failed back and traded it in for another new one, and I am re-configuring the computer again. It’s not so bad this time as I’ve done it before and can move along fairly smoothly. (This time I lost my drive partition and all my data. bummer. You know me though- rebreather diver=backup.)
Got it covered