They say the two best days of a boat owner’s life are the day they buy the boat and the day they sell it. Yesterday, we sold our small boat, The Muse, but the happiness hasn’t quite set in yet.
Here’s a little back story. One weekend, friends and I were taking in a band on Sunset Marina, the dock that regularly hosts the wildest parties on the water. I overindulged a bit in their hospitality and needed to escape the rowdy mob. So, I wandered the slips trying to find refuge when I saw a little boat that seemed to be abandoned. Upon closer inspection, I saw a “For Sale” sign, so I went up and found that the padlock on the front was broken. I slid open the door, sneaked to the bedroom, and pulled a Goldilocks. I slept like a baby angel until I was awakened by the desperate calls from my friends who’d decided to go home and realized I was missing. I said good-bye to my new boat friend and returned to my own marina.
The next morning I awoke in my own bed and realized that the little boat was the answer to my prayers. In 2012, I decided I wanted to take on the challenge of living on the lake for a full year, but there was no way our boat, Lakematized, could accommodate me, Frank, two dogs, and two cats. And, there was no way we could afford a houseboat large enough to do so. However, we could afford a small 1972 steel-hulled, Cumberland to house the cats, my office, and guests. My dream of lake life could become a reality.
We found out the owner was an elderly man who absolutely adored the lake and lived there until he passed. He had a cat. It was an omen. So, we bought the little boat that I hijacked that July night and named her The Muse. It soon became my haven. Upon stepping on board, I always felt engulfed by peace and safety. Whenever I couldn’t sleep, or was mad at Frank, or just feeling sad and angsty, I would go sit on that boat and let it rock the blues away. Whenever I had to stay here overnight all alone, I'd lock myself in and know that The Muse would protect me until morning.
Yesterday, with hardly any notice a man showed up to look at The Muse. He came back within three hours with cash and supplies so he could stay on it for the night. Selling a boat at this time of year is a huge blessing. I should be thrilled, but I’m so sad. It all happened so fast that I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye. I wanted to bask in the memories of all of the fabulous friends who made it their home for the weekend. I wanted to remember the "before and after" and take pride in all the work we'd done to her. I wanted to take one more nap on that little boat before letting her go.
Maybe I still can. After all, my relationship with The Muse started with trespassing. It should end that way too. The next time I know the new owner is out-of-town, I’m going to break back in, and give the little boat a proper thank you and farewell.
Sharing All I KNOW about the fine art of voluptuating. here's to living the lush life.