The Build Up
The last few weeks have been quite the whirlwind for me and Delaney. I would say we are a couple that likes to fill our weekends with activities. Usually, we consider that a good thing, we like staying busy. Occasionally, however, Mondays roll around and we wish we had just taken a weekend off from meeting up with people, camping, or skiing. Everyone knows that feeling, the feeling of stretching your free time too thin to where it doesn’t feel like free time anymore. If I could summarize the last two months, that’s exactly how I would describe it. The difference being, we don’t have a choice at this point, not for the next month and a half at least. At this point, its nonstop work on the sailboat. It has been that way for a little while now and will continue to be such until we launch.
We bought our boat, Spuddle, thinking it was nearly ready to be lived aboard. To be honest, it was. All we really needed to do was maybe throw another battery on board, move all of our things in, and boom, we would be living on a boat, come June. That would have been too easy though. After removing the previous owners things and literally everything that could be removed from the boat (and there was a surprisingly large amount to remove), we realized, what better time to get some major projects done before we move all our things aboard. This was a decision that both Delaney and I still stand behind, but wow, where has the time gone.
Six or seven weekends have gone by since we started the work and we only have six or seven left. With the approach of Spuddle’s launch it feels like there is more and more to do. We have gotten a lot done already but every box we check seems to open our eyes to another task.
We are just wrapping up sanding the entire interior and preparing to put new varnish on almost every surface of the boat. We have cut out and repaired a large section of the deck that had rotted due to a leak. Delaney is just starting to cut fabric to re-upholster our settees (couches), and I’ll spare you the story of how difficult getting a mooring has been. We still haven’t wired new batteries in and we don’t have a hot water heater.
If you’re reading this saying to yourself, “Nothing here sounds enjoyable”, I can’t blame you. I talk to coworkers and feel as if everything I’m saying sounds negative. If I had to tell you how many times, I’ve heard someone ask me “You know what B.O.A.T. stands for don’t you?” I’d be a rich man (‘Break out another thousand’ for all you non boat owners). When asked how my weekend went, I don’t know why, but usually I give a response of the work we got done and how much work there still is to do. I don’t tell them how peaceful it was to eat lunch in the cabin covered in dust while it pours and blows 20kts right outside the companionway. I’ll tell them how much time I have spent trying to find a company to move my mooring, but not how excited I am to tie up to it at the end of a three-day weekend in July after sailing day after day.
It is so easy to elaborate on work and chores and to-dos, but explaining the small joys and peaceful bliss never seems to translate properly, or I don’t even try. I usually try to wrap these posts up with a good conclusion, but frankly, we are still 6 weeks from the conclusion of this story. Instead, I’ll leave you with a poem I wrote the other week. I hope you enjoy it. You’ll hear from us next when we’re in the water!
Only Fools Know
I’ve heard about these holes that money falls into,
More so about the best days being those of buying and selling,
They’ll tell you all the ways things can go wrong,
Let you know all the rules you’re breaking,
They make it out to be like a day on Wall Street,
Something only fools would pursue
Is it because they forgot about the good times,
Do they not recognize the truth behind the cliches,
Swinging on the hook with the deafening drone of summer bugs at night,
A million raindrops attacking the sails like a fabric machine gun,
Halyards slapping a mast and birds screaming in the distance,
Come sit with me on my boat,
Tell me what a fool I am