The Reality of Leaving...

 

... has all of us in an uproar.

 

Three garbage bags for Good Will

Wilbur tip-toeing around a bunch of 'yea or nae' crap in the cockpit.

We've known for far too long that we were going to try to cast off our lines in early 2015 yet we are finding ourselves horribly unprepared. Part of our dilemma has to do with Hans putting our vehicle up for sale on Craig's List a week before he should have. At least that's what I keep harping about to him since it was sold within a day, so now how the hell are we supposed to finish our provisioning, get stuff to the post office, take loads and loads of crap to the laundromat, and most of all, get Wilbur to the dog park where he's been fraternizing, sniffing, pooping, running, ramming his head into crotches, shoulder checking pooches who need to be shoulder shoulder checked, chasing down and 'rolling' pups (someone has to do it and they should be thankful Wilbur is kind about it), and most of all leaping onto picnic tables (picnic being a loose term as no one in their right mind would ever think of eating on a table at a dog park) in order to smooch (actually, I'm being polite here and it's known as getting the 'tongue") as many people possible before being thrown off, for the past three plus years.

Yes, our Wilbur has a bit of a reputation here on the gulf and he and I are finding it difficult to 'quit it'.

 

We immediately had several offers from fellow cruisers to use their vehicles for our last minute runs. However, since Monday is a holiday and we can't transfer ownership until Tuesday, we're going to try to get as much done as possible during this window of opportunity. This will involve trips to the post office (early Tuesday morning), WalMart, Home Depot, Gulf Port, West Marine, Winn-Dixie, Best Buy, JoAnne's Fabrics (a completely unexpected mess), PetCo, Wilbur's vet, U-Haul for propane tank filling, and God knows what else. Since I really hate to borrow from our neighbors, we may actually rent a vehicle for a day or two, it just depends on how much we can get done.

And I still need to coat our canvas with 303 and get up the mast to take care of the water that's sitting in one of our spreader lights.

 

The past few days have seen us gutting the boat of stuff that we will not need to go cruising. I filled three garbage bags full of fabric scraps, patterns, and sewing notions for Good Will. We boxed up Hans' hockey gear along with our winter coats that will be sent north to family where we'll pick through that stuff next summer. Our live-a-board neighbors have been gifted items (crock pot, toaster oven) that are peachy keen to have while living in a marina.

 

I came back from vacuuming and washing our vehicle (for car candidate/buyer number 2) to Hans saying, "We have a situation." My heart just stopped and I couldn't imagine what the hell to expect short of WW III. All it turned out to be was that our cockpit cushions (due to have been replaced a couple of years ago) are literally falling apart and now sand-like crap (from the 20 year old closed cell foam) is sifting all over the place and filtering down into our lazarettes. This past summer we tried to get an estimate on replacing these cushions (somewhere in the $1,600 range) and I decided I'd rather cruise with ugly (therefore who cares what we do to them) cushions, yet now Hans thinks I should whip up some new covers, in, oh say, the next few minutes. Hence the need to visit JoAnne's Fabrics and I just can't wait to try sewing at anchor.

 

Wilbur totally senses something is up, and uncharacteristically for him, he jumped ship two times today. Wilbur is very seldom left alone and yet the last few days have upset his equalibrium. We were gone for nearly four hours the other night when we were treated to a farewell dinner with our dog park (very best) friends, and the day before that we dared to leave him while we tried to get some shopping done. Gone are Wilbur's and my lazy days while Hans was at work.

 

This morning Hans and I were scrabbling about in the gravel underneath our vehicle in search of an elusive tiny cap to the transmission fluid (I'm still questioning why Hans felt the need to mess with it to begin with...) when all of a sudden a third party offered his help. This third party was Wilbur, who just couldn't stand the fact that his peeps had abandonded him yet once again. I nearly fainted when his big fat pitty nose came sniffing around the corner and I immediately marched him back to the boat. Later on he once again stepped off the boat when he saw me talking to a fellow live-a-board. For his own safety we'll keep him tethered to the helm for the next few days.

 

"Whhhaaaaat? Is this for me?"

 

Yes, Wilbur, it is. You are, once again, officially allowed in Bahamian waters.

 

I'm not kidding when I say my head is pounding and when we went to WalMart today I just froze up so we came home with a lot less stuff than we should have. We are woefully unprepared for departure and I have to remind myself that we will be on American soil for the next few weeks. Even though stuff might be a bit more expensive the further south we move, it will still be far cheaper than what we'll pay it the Bahamas.

This is if we ever get there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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