Moving onto a boat, especially when all previous life experiences have been land-based, is nothing shy of daunting. The unloading of the things that inevitably come with a typical American life can take weeks. I suppose that makes sense as it took years to accumulate. We’ve donated carloads. We’ve sold plenty. We’ve listed free things on craigslist. We’ve taken possessions to friends’ homes. We’ve left things by the curb for anyone to grab. Yet the things continue. I’m beginning to wonder if the things actually possess gremlin qualities. It seems highly probable that my daughters are putting water on the things overnight so that by morning we have even more things! And is it possible for the walls of my house to be closing in slowly so that it doesn’t actually look like we’ve gotten rid of any things? I’m not sure which is more likely, but either way, the things are plaguing me. Like the gremlins they are.
And then there’s the preparation of the new home, a.k.a. the boat. Did you know that if you put a beautiful boat on the hard it immediately becomes a dirt-filled, grime-covered, insect-infested sauna? So is our boat. For now. In the process of moving from land to water I’ve lost my husband to our boat. My partner in the gremlin war has moved on to fight the battle of the boat. He has spent the last several weeks working in, under, and on said disaster. The work he’s done is amazing and she’s almost ready to go back to the water. The jobs to move aboard seem overwhelming for the time we’ve allotted, but we will make it work. We simply must divest ourselves of the concept that it needs to be a certain way for us to move aboard. And we’ll do that.
As soon as the insects move out and allow space for the remaining things.
So I’m beginning to wonder…do gremlins eat roaches?