A Day of Baths

TJ and I awoke today with a sense of great anticipation.  At 0615, our excitement peaked, for at 0615, we began deconstructing an Alfa Laval purifier.  Several hours later, we had a purifier bowl sitting in parts before us. 

Our work was interrupted at 1020 by a series of emergency drills.  TJ and I were placed on deck behind one of several fire monitors during the day’s fire drill.  If I had been meteorologically-minded, I might have changed my position.  Then again, probably not.  Within minutes of starting the fire pump, those standing starboard of the monitor were soaked.  I was among them.  Some of this was the result of a strong wind; I am convinced most was due to mischievous monitor-operators though.

Following the deck dousing, TJ and I partook in a zero visibility drill.  While I fed the two a life rope, TJ and Kyle crawled blindly into a room to rescue the hospital's mannequin.  In an attempt to grasp Kyle's ankle and thus remain in contact, TJ definitely groped a butt.

The day was not content with its earlier saltwater deluge.  Shortly after the fire drill, it brought TJ and I an oil bath.  Armed with Scotch Brite pads, rags, and diesel oil (apparently a cleaning medium), we attacked our purifier parts.  Based on his white arms and pained expression, TJ did not enjoy the process nearly as much as I did.  Then again, he did get stuck with the stack of fifty plus identical discs.  Identical parts and cleaning never mix well.

I have decided on another mismatched pair: my arms and soap.  Dad, I know well your opposition to bodily markings.  Unfortunately, there is a good probability I will return home with grease/oil-stained arms.  Think of it as a segue to the inevitable tattoo.  You’re welcome.