So some friends are getting together to celebrate the book about me going out into the world. For some reason they want to dress up like space pirates and Centauri slaves. I’m going to wear a sizzling hot, red ship suit, that will make me look so sleek and trim, others will just oggle me. I am never dressing like a space pirate or a slave girl. How disgusting! I’ve so been there and done that.
I just found out that there’s a book about me and my adventures. I’m so pleased to know that I do get off this lump of rock sometime. Yay. Me!
There’s a lot of words in that book. I think I’ll have to learn to read. It’s a bit more complicated than a checklist.
I fell asleep watching A Slave’s Lament again last night. I woke with a jolt and hit my head on the console. I had one of those dreams, like a premonition. Something is going to happen very soon. I am sure I’m right. Five Earth days. You check back here. I’ll bet you a can of my bean ration that my premonition comes true.
Years on the outpost are different that Earth. It’s hard to differentiate them. There are no celebrations and if we do try to celebrate something it’s because some new update has come in from Earth. It so distant. So remote from our daily lives that I don’t really understand why we would celebrate. For these reasons, I have no new year resolutions. That’s what Gris says what you call them. Things that you decide to do for yourself, to change or strive for. I don’t have those but I have dreams.
My dreams are endless and they keep me going and stop me from feeling sad.
Nothing much happening here. Gris is somewhere fixing something and I am bored, bored, bored. There may be something on the newscast from Earth. What’s this white stuff on the screen. Someone is broadcasting snow. Happy dance!
We don’t have Christmas here on outpost 311. We don’t have seasons and one day is like any other. However, the news update says that it is Christmas time there. A time for food (oh joy!) and for presents.
Gris always remembers Christmas. He made me a back scratcher out of toughened cable. I made him a hardtack house, glued together with squashed baked beans. He loved it.
Now it’s time to grab the checklist and keep this outpost in ship shape. Cough!
Gris tells me that you guys eat heaps of food at Christmas. Food that I haven’t even heard of let alone tasted. One day I’ll come to Earth and eat and eat and eat.
I thought I’d do some maintenance in the galley. Not that we cook that much normally besides heating beans. Last trade, we got two tins of pea and ham soup. I thought I’d check the elements and clean the heating unit so that we could have a nice dinner. I managed to pull it all apart, but somehow it doesn’t go back together.
Gris is grunting and groaning trying to put it back together. Oh dear. He says that a part broke when I disassembled the unit and can’t be fixed.
It’s not likely we’ll get a spare part. Looks like we are having cold soup as our special treat.
So best attentions aside, I should have left it alone. A working, dirty heating unit is better than a clean, non-function heating unit.