Talkin' Shit About A Pretty Sunset

The ideal number of holes in the bottom of your boat is zero. Mine, unfortunately, has FIVE: two for my head, one for the sink, and two for the former inboard motor which has been long ago removed.

And I discovered that the hose clamp on the old drive shaft seacock keeping the Chesapeake from creeping in was so rusted that I picked it off with my bare fingers. As I picked the last piece of rust from the crusty hose, I heard the horrid sound of Bay water rushing into my boat. I panicked, then rifled through a drawer full of miscellaneous boat gear and luckily found a new hose clamp before the boat and I descended to Davey Jones' Locker. Once the water had stopped coming in (about a gallon), the seacock was clearly still wet so I slopped some gunky black roof sealant all over the SOB for good measure.

Next, I found that the shackle holding the lines to my mooring was so rusted that I could've broken it with the heel of my sneaker. With 30 minutes remaining before West Marine closed, I broke the speed limit driving to buy a replacement.

And I fucking HATE having the boat moored. I have horrible experiences when my last boat was moored years ago. The Department of Natural Resources Police called me no fewer than three times to report that my boat had broken its mooring and ended up aground. I'd drive out to some far off corner of some back waterway to find the sailboat leaned up in that rock-solid aground tilt. I'm currently on a waiting list to have the boat at a proper slip, but until that day I'm stuck on the god damn mooring.

And tomorrw I'm heading to northern Michigan for a week, then I'm back for three days until I'm off to Vietnam, Laos and Philippines for 26 days. Hopefully all those problems won't assert their ugly heads while I'm gone ...