No plant is an island

I'm back in Florida again, doing more boiler work... and when I arrived I found there was almost nothing to do.  The plant hasn't been running (due to the price of natural gas) and therefore there's not much to fix.  I thought I'd been put on night shift for nothing, a one-night event.  But this is night number two and it looks like I'll be working tomorrow night as well, so my informal quota is satisfied. 

So I'm sitting alone in my trailer on a warm (but thankfully not as humid as last) night, addressing work from far away, having life conversations with various folks, and I can't help but think how far away everything is... it's truly an island, this night work.  It couldn't be more different than every day life.  The weather is drastically warmer.  The folks are polite.  I get hugs from friends and colleagues.  I listen to the persistent hum of vacuum trucks and air compressors.  I see a sunset (and a sunrise) every day.  On one hand it's a break from the dreary Salem weather, the constant wondering where I should move my career and life to feel more fulfilled.  A broken-in shoe.  On the other, it's just more of the same...same boilers, same people, same work, same outcome.

Change is in the air, though.  I've been fielding call after call from recruiters, as well as well-intentioned emails from family and friends.  I can't say this will be my last trip to Cedar Bay Generating Station, but I can say I promised a corporate employee over dinner that I will have a new job by my next birthday.  Find a destination.  Make a plan.  Execute the plan.

In the meantime, I'll be here...awake, with any luck, looking after my boys and enjoying the summer weather.