Chronicles of the Floating Infirmary
Situation report: the parents are no longer dying, just lying around )). In fact, they’re feeling better and ordering us about doing household chores while they rest. Today, for example, I learned how to sew an awning with a sewing machine (I got all hot and bothered and exhausted), and the day before yesterday, how to give an injection (!!!). Dad is already getting out of bed once a day in earnest to greet the guests—our friends, who, you might say, saved us. And in between, he’s being difficult, as patients are supposed to be. Mum has started sitting up and talking, and even laughing. The crew’s running joke is: “Want some fish?”—that’s how Dad approaches Mum in the mornings.
For the second day running, Lada is taking a break from the crew’s company and going ashore for walks with our friend Rosetta. Yesterday she brought back a haul—a bag of mangoes, lemons and one cucumber. She found it!
The average temperature in the hospital is falling. Dad has an electric current running through his skin; Mum has aches and cramps—in short, it’s business as usual in the tank.
Today we’re sorting through boxes, cupboards and lockers in search of exercise books and textbooks for Knowledge Day and the start of school. Lada is taking it very seriously—she has packed her schoolbag and drawn up a lesson timetable for herself. Tomorrow, to mark the occasion, I’ll make some kind of cake that only we can eat, because Mum and Dad are now on a diet to keep the illness from coming back. No animal products or alcohol for at least a month. And for the first 10 days, no grains or legumes either—only fruit and vegetables. Ideally, they should go raw-vegan for a while, too). Can you hear my gleeful laughter?
Wishing everyone a celebration with delicious cakes :).
A huge thank-you to everyone for your support in the comments!
Sailor Nastya.