I imagined I’d have three new surf sessions to add at this point, but Saturday the only place breaking nicely within an 8.5-mile radius of my house was in the harbor entrance (I’m not there yet) (yes, I could’ve driven to Camel, but I’d already driven to Trinidad once that day), Sunday morning followed a late night of drinking at the Pearl and went into a 14-hour day of deadline work (if I’m going to surf before deadline, I have to be way ahead, and it has to happen at the crack), Monday morning followed a late night of coping with Nick’s low blood sugar and my afternoon surf plans were unexpectedly preempted by a call from Nick’s coach that he had pitching practice. 

So I get up this morning and the buoy says 20 feet. In four hours, the swell went from 6 at 11 (yay!) to 20 at 16 (boo!).

I may cry.