Five weeks into the blue water sailing, and to look at it scientifically, I’ve done nothing but laundry, and taken two people trips.

But science for all its usefulness is limited and incomplete. Sorry Neil the Grassy Tyson.

Right near the start, at the end of the first trip, this big number was flashed at me by the Goddess. 4400. As in dollars, per week.

A hundred and ten K per year for me. The same for her. Five years to a million.

I’ve done some research since. It’s probably a bullshit pipe dream, especially the million, but here deep in June it doesn’t matter. It bore soul fruit, that number. It bore it tonight.

I woke up in the heat, pissed off because it was late again and the schedule was jacked yet again. Made coffee, did some standard deck-clearing stuff, surfed a little in my usual way. At some point I decided to run into town, mainly for food, but also to grab a little free bandwidth for downloads.

The free bandwidth is at the office. On the way there I saw a coyote trotting across a paved but empty street in town. It was still light, but I was the only car in the huge lot. A late Sunday in deep summer. Very little chance of running into anybody, and that was the way I wanted it.

I did what I had to do, and it took until full dark.

By the way, there was somebody else in the building. I just barely knew it. There was a distant chime from a computer in use being shut down, and a little while later the soft click of someone leaving out the door at the far end of the hall, trying to be very quiet.

I’m guessing it was some security guard who wanted a quiet place to surf. Probably for porn. Picked a random computer in an empty building. Was shocked when he heard someone come in. But carried out the mission anyway.

I can relate. It could have been me, twenty thirty years ago. But that’s a narrative cul-de-sac.

So all finished up, I checked for the pigs (and the javelina), but no sign. Off to the grocery store, thinking about work, because of the office visit. Get the hummus and the organic cheese popcorn and the sparkle water …

And suddenly it hit me.

I don’t care any more, if they fire me.

It might hurt a little for a little while. But on balance it ought to improve my life. In fact, if they don’t fire me, I’m probably going to have to fire myself. In fact, maybe I should have done it two years ago.

The last part is probably a stretch. It would have been too much strain psychologically. It would have been running away with my tail between my legs.

But my tail is back to proud now more or less. Not one but two institutions jumped at the chance to pull me in and place me high.

Yet in terms of the plan for dumping wage slavery forever and for good, this job, teaching in general, just isn’t cutting it anyway.

If they cut me off it would be a motivating blessing.

This is the day of mind liberation.