Storage

ManVan, I salute you. You drove a ton of boat stuff down from Washington, saving us hundreds on U-Haul. Then you helped us move from Mountain View to Emery Cove. You were there for shuttling stuff back and forth to the marina, and you’ve served us faithfully all these months as our nearby no-cost storage unit. When you wouldn’t start for me last weekend, I understood. You’ve been neglected, your fuel had been left too long, your headlights were probably left on by young, curious fingers. ...

For the last week or so I’ve been in a terminal velocity free fall of stress. Yes it’s cruising related but probably not what you would think. The stress derives from the notion that I don’t want to own anything (after we drop the dock lines) that we can’t fit in the ManVan or on our boat. I don’t want a storage unit, or a bunch of stuff squirreled away in friends/family’s houses and I don’t want to save anything that I don’t love and expect to dream about regularly while we’re cruising. In fact I want the few possessions that we hold on to to be so significant that I actually consider swallowing the hook in order to be able to use them again. I don’t want to hold on to any sh…tuff. ...