We’re limping along by the seat of our pants. I feel completely out of it, like I’m not really here—as if I’m somewhere else and watching this strange movie. If I knew the ending it would help. If we are going to make it to land again, then I could relax, but if we aren’t going to make it, why are we wasting all these hours fixing things and talking boat-talk? Why aren’t we doing something important? But what would that be?