Year of the Boar, Seventh Month, Day 13.

It seems unfair to say that I am angry since the traders are in fact, doing me a great kindness by taking me with them. Nonetheless, I am finding it difficult to contain my temper this morning. In order to at least vaguely hide my annoyance and disappointment, I have retired to my tent in order to vent my feelings on the turf by ripping little chunks of it out and throwing them towards the other end of the tent. It has not helped so I have decided that I should take my feelings out on my ink and brushes.
Our journey is to be further delayed on account of some sort of hole in the hull of one of the ships.
Apparently, even though the wood from any of the trees nearby would be suitable, there must be a proper drying process, then the wood must be cut and sanded and waterproofed and about a thousand other intricate procedures before the ship will be considered sea-worthy. I am afraid that my eyes glazed over and I quite lost the thread of what the Chief was saying after I became fixated upon the fact that we would not be leaving on schedule.
The Chief has decided that the camp will remain here until the ship has been mended which might take as long as two seven-days and that is as long as the weather remains fine.  I could spit. Even were I to make the decision to continue my journey on foot, it would still take me far longer than it will if I sit here and wait for the traders to take me. It is just that I feel as though I am wasting time remaining here accomplishing nothing. I suppose that if I achieve nothing else, I will have a chance to catch up on my correspondence; even though I have no birds, I can still write letters to my network and send them once birds arrive.