One of the perceived "joys" of living on this island is the forty-five minute boat ride it takes to leave it. The summer people love it - it means they actually can get away, physically away, for however long they've decided to contribute to overrunning the place. But for us islanders, (okay, I'm taking the liberty of speaking for all of us here) it's a humongous pain in the ass. Basically, to get any type of shopping done, other than grocery, without breaking your bank, you've got to endure the boat ride. Twice.
So quite obviously, that is where I am now. (If it wasn't obvious, catch up, would you?) A six-fifteen ferry off the rock. How long have we been waiting, might you ask? Well, I can't tell you that until you get the whole story. The sister (Emma) had a doctor's appointment at four-thirty, and although my mother tried to change it to an earlier time, her doctor didn't call back until around two, when he said that he could see them RIGHT NOW. So of course, we were all excited, you know, thinking we'd get off earlier than a six-fifteen, so we wouldn't be eating until after seven, maybe we'd even have a few hours to kill before dinner!
Stupid little naive girls. We sat in stand-bye for two and a half hours. Two and a half hours, in that little Ford Focus wagon, with the sisters (Emma AND Olivia) at each other's throats. The entire. Time. I almost throttled someone. I did get to read an entire book during that time, but still. I was sitting in a car for almost three hours, waiting for a boat as we watched car after car fill up the two boats between three and the six-fifteen. Hellish.
And, to make everything even more exciting, it seemed to be a parade of people I don't like going by my car! Ah, hell. If this is any indication of how the shopping trip is going to be, I might as well just jump ship.
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