Escaping the heat with our boat in tow, Marc plans to head north to Oregon tomorrow. As we drift further into the abyss of joblessness, the boat just has to go. So we are giving it back to the dealer.
It, like our bike we had to sell three shorts month ago, represents another lifestyle and another time, which now seems so foreign and far off. Now we scrimp to have money to buy groceries, utilities, fuel, vehicle maintenance and nothing else; then we had money for enjoyment, toys, and good times. I can’t look at it without remembering gently bobbing on the bay, sipping hot coffee or cold beer, while we waited out the necessary soak time for our crab pots. Reading the tide chart was a morning ritual.
If there was ever a case of a planned-for-future not working out as planned, Marc and I are living proof. Now we don’t make plans; we drift from day to day wondering where the next dollar will come from and when it doesn’t, what we will lose next.
