I’m not kidding. I’m also not complaining. The work is enjoyable, the accomplishments are satisfying, and the puzzles and challenges are exciting. Just don’t ask me to raise my arms above shoulder height or why there is primer on my face. It’s that kind of week is all.

Yesterday I installed vents for my propane lockers (you may exhale now, Kennon) so any leaking heavier-than-air propane has a path to freedom away from my boat. I had removed the boat’s old hailing port name from the transom—she was registered to Wrangell, Alaska—yesterday, in preparation for her new Aquia, VA lettering, so today I filled the holes left behind.

The top stripe on the sides is getting repainted, so the old stuff got sanded, taped, and, in the dead of night, a coat of primer. That’s how I met Lorenzo the security guard. I guess not a lot of boat owners paint by floodlight at night. Lorenzo was nice, if not maybe a tad put off by my actions. 

I’ve also done a LOT of walking. Everything is far away here. But the paths are all pretty and well maintained, and it’s not really a hardship after all.

So another day begins—whatever day it may be—with strong coffee, mild temperatures, and some classical guitar in the background. Soon enough it will switch  to homemade Gatorade, sweating in the August sun, and some Willie Nelson. 

Because it’s that kind of week.