Thursday, November 4, 2004

While I did the dishes yesterday after a most excellent dinner, Muse looked up from her newspaper and drummed her fingers.

“You know, we should go on vacation,” she said.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Dinner was very tasty, by the way. I always like it when turns of phrase are cooked just right,” I complimented.

I let the water run over a dirty dish.

“Hey, that’s my specialty,” she replied. “So where do you want to go?”

The last dish was a challenge, which made it all the more satisfying when I did a final rinse.

“Well,” I said, drying my hands off and sitting down at the table, “someplace different. Doesn’t have to be exotic, just different.”

“That’s going to be tough. We’ve been to most places.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Hey, could I get a piece of that?”

I reached over and fished out the “Lifestyles” section from the newspaper.

“How about Tortuga?” Muse suddenly proposed.

“What?”

“Tortuga, isle of pirates,” she explained excitedly.

“Does this place even exist?”

“Probably. Definitely. I’ve seen brochures,” she sighed wistfully.

The thought of flying thousands of miles to a place that might still have pirates didn’t appeal to me in the least bit. I must’ve shaken my head or sighed, because Muse promptly assumed her lawyerly tone.

“There’s going to be sun,” she began, “and beaches. Nature. We could go swimming, hiking, all that fun stuff.”

“Beaches?”

“Yeah, beaches,” she nodded.

“That means there’s going to be booty as well,” I murmured.

“What? What did you just say?” asked Muse.

“Uh, I said there’s going to be treasure. Swag. I do so love swag,” I sputtered.

Good save.

“It looks like someone has his mind in the gutters,” said Muse with a huff. “I’m trying to plan a nice vacation and all you’re thinking about is booty?”

“I started collecting doubloons! Yesterday!” I protested.

She snapped her newspaper shut, got up from the table, and stormed out the room.

“Ass! All you were thinking about was ass!” she said accusingly as she rounded the corner.

“You mean, like, donkeys? Are there going to be donkeys in Tortuga?

“No donkeys, dear,” she shouted, “although there is a gigantic asshole sitting in the dining room right now. I’ll be back in an hour. If you’re lucky.”

She blew through the portico for a walk. And that was that. I was alone.

I cleaned off the dining table and breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, I got out of traveling and spending thousands of dollars on a pirate cove, for crying out loud, but at what cost?