Bounded In A Nutshell

Dearest Rachel –

Shakespeare had Hamlet claim that he “could be bounded in a nutshell, and count [himself] a king of infinite space”; the implication being that he had no ambitions beyond that which he was at that moment straitened within, and therefore no threat to his uncle the king. A day like today has had me feeling much like that as well.

It’s not a case of Basel Syndrome; at least, I don’t think it is. Whenever we reach port in Lombok, I’ll be more than happy to disembark and get lost in the city, as is my wont. I’m just hoping that I’ll be up to it by then.

For now, though, I’m perfectly content to stay in my room, despite the fact that it’s a fraction of the one I call mine (however reluctantly – I’ve given up on think of it as ‘ours’ anymore, and as much as I might want to, I don’t see myself sharing it with anyone else in the near future) back at home. At this point, it’s as much out of consideration for everyone else aboard, as it is for the fact that I have all I might need in here – apart from, for the time being, exposure to direct sunlight on the balcony. Limited exposure to others, that’s the best policy for now.

Seriously, I wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone else. It’s not awful, mind you – I’m not feeling like I was on the verge of death or anything like that – but it does occupy your attention far more than it has any right to, given that. It’s like having a mask pressed tightly on your face, like a weight upon your cheekbones and sinuses. It’s not so much painful (although, on reflection, it is that, too) as it is thoroughly uncomfortable. The fact that it forces you to breathe through your mouth, too, doesn’t help, either; I’m not looking forward to trying to fall asleep tonight, because that’s what it’s going to be – trying, not succeeding, due to the difficulty in breathing.

At the same time, I feel like I actually have to warn my tablemates at dinner, because – as with my attempts at sociability – I’m surprised that I can apparently fake normalcy so well. If I didn’t say anything, they might not know to keep their distance. As it is, they’re all more solicitous toward me than concerned for themselves, offering me advice as to what I need to do in order to mitigate my situation (some of which – like doubling my vitamin C dosage – I might just do, while others – such as ordering a hot toddy and going straight to bed – I’m not nearly so sure about).

Although I don’t really have nearly so much of a problem with heading off to bed – even if I have no expectations of falling asleep right away. I’ve never been interested in the various shows in the theater, and unlike several of my tablemates, it’s not as if I religiously attend the trivia sessions in the bar upstairs that prompt us to depart the dining room. They rarely seem to win – apparently, there’s this other group that regularly beats their team by a point or two almost every night – but even when they do, what do they get out of it? A little trinket with the Royal Caribbean logo on it or some such. I expect to bring home souvenirs of this trip, but those sort of things don’t appeal to me at all.

There is the slight nag of guilt over not going to the gym for this one sea day, which, given that I would only visit the gym three times a week at most while at home, seems downright ridiculous. Then again, I’m not eating nearly as rich of food at home as I am out here (although fast food has its own complications, after all). Besides, whether I’m shedding viruses at this point or not, there’s no sense in putting my hands all over too much equipment at this point. I shouldn’t run the risk of making others unhealthy when they’re trying to get more so.

And so, I’m confining myself to quarters… and for now, I’m okay with that. Apart from my two meals a day, I don’t need anything more out of life. And I’ve got enough to entertain myself and accomplish some work, assuming I can scrape together enough energy and desire to do so.

Yes, I’m bound up in a nutshell, honey, but I have my own little fiefdom here. It’s not infinite space, by any means, but it’s all that I need for now. I may not agree with myself if I’m still this incapacitated upon arriving in Lombok, but for now, I am king of all I survey – even though that kingdom is small and contains but one subject for me to rule; myself. That, quite frankly, is more than enough for me.

Still, I could stand to feel better, and I hope I will by morning. Until then, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.