Reading of the Sea

Settling in to another work week with rain in the forecast, sailing is on hold for a while.  This is easier said than done. Tonight I found myself at home scanning the bookshelf for something nautical.  I pass over a few cheesy novels, stop at an old gem and thumb to the first page.  I can't help but smile -  I've found a great way to spend the next few rainy nights.

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.”

Herman Melville