Yesterday, Erik put a loving arm around me, put his lips to my ear and whispered, "it's time." A thrill went up my spine. Finally, we were ready to bed the backing plate for the new chainplate for the inner forestay. Erik stomped off to the foredeck in the driving rain; I grabbed my 11/16th wrench and climbed into the anchor locker. It was everything I dreamed. Aluminum filings rained down on me. Erik broke a drill bit. I smeared 4200 sealant on my favourite fleece with the skill of an infant eating chocolate pudding. I climbed ever deeper into the locker, trying to get some purchase on the [unrepeatable] locknuts. And throughout, Erik and I yelled sweet nothings at each other via the hawsepipe.
"Do you have it yet?"
"For crying out loud. What the hell are you doing down there?"
""I'm trying to get a nut onto a bolt that some idiot drilled too close to the bulkhead! So give me a minute!"
These loving exchanges will live in my heart forever.
But my exotic adventures were not at an end! This morning, the weather rolled in. Once Indy informed me that it was, indeed, time to get out of bed and make her breakfast, I got up and lit the diesel heater. But fun was in store. When the wind strikes from a certain angle, our old-style and on-the-list-to-be-modified chimney allows a backdraft. Which makes the fire go foooom! And today, it blew a black fluffy cloud of soot through the salon. We turned off the fire and aired out the room, but the magical transformation was complete.
|Mom. Loves. Cleaning!|
But the fun wasn't over. Because some of the soot did indeed fall to the ground (and let those carbon particles be an inspiration to their gravity-flouting brethren.) And my girls, not wanting to be left out of the mess-making fun, ran through it. I, dear friends, got to scrub soot off their feet. Several times, no less. How those young ladies show their love for me.
|Be sure to run through the soot again in five minutes, darling.|