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You wake up one morning, feeling sluggish from the night before, and a little disappointed. Shae, your now ex-girlfriend came up to you, drunk as ever, and said it was over, in front of everyone at the party. This was accented by her new boyfriend giving you a new shiner.

Your morning routine drawls on, and as time trails along, you finally grab a warm cup of coffee, and drown out the sleepiness. After reading the paper (that the bitch papergirl threw in your sprinkler), you decide that a jog would be nice. You slip into your jogging suit, and head out. Hell, what's a day off for?

The fresh air excites you, and you forget completely about Shae, everything feels good, until you look into your neighbor's window on the way back. You see him slap her across the face, she stumbles back, and runs out the door, nearly clobbering you in the process.

Your neighbor steps out, screaming her name, "Shanda! You worthless bitch! I'm the best you'll ever get!"

You roll your eyes and jog by and notice him eyeballing you.

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We got a good night's sleep. We did, honestly. Eventually, anyway. I had instructions from Eric; we needed to be passing Graemsay on the approach to Stromness just before high water, roughly four o'clock, and that was about twelve miles from Scapa Bay. With the wind still in the south-west, we had to sail east of south well out into Scapa Flow before turning west, which meant more like fifteen miles. That was fine; I allowed four hours, of which Grace took the helm for two (separate) hours....

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