I wake up and I have to pee. So badly. Every morning. That’s fine, I get up and *bang* smack my head on the ceiling. Okay, that’s fine, too. I have a growing bump, but maybe it just makes my brain look a bit larger.
RJ laughs at me, but rolls over, still half asleep. I crawl out of bed, pull some shorts on, grab the marina bathroom keys, and head outside. Climbing up our five steps and letting the fresh air smack me in the face. Wait, no, that’s just the mosquito netting. I flap my arms around until I make my way through an opening and now, ah, yes, THAT is the fresh air smacking my senses this time.
Walking over to the bathroom connected to the BoatUS candy store and gas stop, I peer around at the other boats. Mostly empty, I can’t seem to understand why people would have these clearly live able boats and not be living on them. Then I remember, what we are doing is not all that normal. Although it has yet to hit me yet that living on a sailboat is really that abnormal of a concept, I kind of pretend that it is. Maybe it’ll hit me when the wind starts pushing our sails.
After my morning bathroom trip (is this blog post TMI?), I feel relieved. And awake. Time to go wake up RJ. Stepping back onto the boat, I honestly smile each time. It moves in the water, but I move with it. It sways back and forth and so I sway, too. Walking through the salon and to the v-berth, I massage RJ’s sore shoulder for a couple of minutes and he is up. Time to get to work.
Long daily to-do lists are a part of our every day during this “prep” time. We wake up. Look at the main to-do list. Make a daily one. Cross things off of it. Amend items. Realize that certain items can’t be done before other items are done. Realize that certain items can’t be done until pieces and parts are purchased. Realize that certain pieces and parts can only be purchased online. Realize that our initial daily to-do list can’t be done at all because of above reasons. Remake to-do list. Admire handwriting. Decide that we are hungry. Decide that Sammy Arepas is the most delicious food in all of St. Joseph, MI and that is absolutely the only possible thing that we could eat right now to satiate our hunger.
At this moment, as I’m writing, I decide that I should write an in depth blog post simply about how pleasant of a town St. Joe is. So this is me, putting that on our to-do list.
Now that our stomachs are full and our taste buds are smiling, we get back to the boat. Which means we’re back to the to-do list. Have we even crossed anything off yet? We have, yes, but we’re moving a little bit too slowly.
Suddenly, I get a burst of energy. Earlier, after having breakfast, I nearly cried out of frustration.
“I just want to go home,” I said. “This boat doesn’t feel like a home and everything is a mess and there is just dirt everywhere and on everything.”
RJ looked bummed after I said that, but without really knowing what to do at that moment, he got back to working on whatever item on our list he was in progress of checking off.
That being said, when the energy burst hit me, I decided it was time. Time to finally give us a place to sit. Okay, okay. We did have a few places to sit: on the edge of the bed, on the floor, in the cockpit (which I had previously hosed down), and a few other spots on the corners of benches that had been overtaken by tools and solvents.
“RJ, we are putting together the benches or bunk or whatever with the table inside the boat.”
And so we did. RJ nailed, I pulled out nails. RJ sawed, I broke a saw. RJ made a mess, I vacuumed it up. Finally, we grabbed the cushions, we removed the table from where it was hidden, and made ourselves a place to sit. A place to gather.
A place to make to-do lists.
And I felt happy when I went to bed. And I felt happy waking up the next day.
And I feel happy now.