Martian boys make do.
That has been the tagline of the mission so far. The word "boys" being gender neutral, of course.
There's a lot of improvisation on Mars. Matt Damon kinda nailed it in "The Martian." We haven't resorted to dipping potatoes in aspirin just yet, but our food rations have begun to dwindle. Our dinner tonight consisted of rehydrated potato slices and medium salsa. I've been supplementing calories with hot chocolate. Martian boys make do.
We were able to get an EVA off, though! Cesare, Kasey, Pavi, and Dylan headed northbound at the crack of dawn, leaving myself, Vladimir, and Tyler to have a fellas' day in. We quickly retired to our quarters to catch up on sleep. Unfortunately, in a cruel twist of fate, yesterday's wind came back to haunt us.
There's a flap of paint hanging off the side of the Habitat, and we think another one protruding from the roof. When the wind gets going, these flaps bang against the Hab exterior with a force and frequency I previously thought impossible, shaking our home like it were set on tumble dry. Our slumber party was cut short.
The wind also dropped the Hab's internal temperature to 51 degrees Fahrenheit, which for my friends on the metric system is approximately equivalent to "a bit nippy." I spent the vast majority of the day in my sleeping bag, stumbling around like a blind caterpillar trying to balance on its hind legs. I've also been supplementing hot chocolate for heat. Martian boys make do.
I'd like to clarify that this is not a list of grievances. The curveballs are what make life on Mars interesting! Without them, this would just be a glorified stay at the Martian Holiday Inn. There would be no spirit of adventure to exploring a new frontier if there were no "do" to be made. Neil Armstrong made do. Louis & Clark made do. Christopher Columbus... probably made a little too much do. He was not a good dude.
Our slowly depleting pantry has necessitated some delicious culinary innovation. The rhythmic thumping on the Hab walls became a trap beat over which we terribly rapped about hot chicken, which we miss dearly. The chill amidst our living quarters became something petty to commiserate about and distract ourselves from the deadly planet just outside our windows.
When the EVA crew returned, we learned from yesterday's mistakes and battened down the hatches immediately. We tethered the outer front airlock door shut and locked down in the Habitat. Eventually, the wind died down and we all went our separate ways to either work on research or catch some z's. I myself dropped like a rock and went completely comatose on the Hab couch.
There's a hefty debate here in the crew on what constitutes "napping" vs. "sleeping." Personally, I've been far too busy doing both to weigh in on the discussion.
Once the comms window closes, we'll be winding down and watching "Apollo 13" projected onto the Habitat wall. I'm a bit worried I'll be confused about the plot since I haven't seen Apollos 1 through 12.
Nonetheless, nothing like a little bit of cinematic recuperation before we launch into another big day of making do!
