As you all know, I live in a boat.
It has a nice exterior design, the engine is terrific, the electronics, plumbing, and all its other systems work very well.
The interior has some nice features…an L-shaped settee curving around a table, a nice long counter opposite that serves as galley work space, a low side by side refrigerator and freezer, a stove and microwave.
Thanks to my brother-in-law, Keith Gibson, it has some nice homey features: a bookcase, a CD and DVD case, a TV that works when you have power, screens for every open space to keep flying bugs out.
It also has a few things that are a pain, but have been corrected in later models, like the postage-stamp-sized sink that a dinner plate can’t even fit in, and a double berth along the side of the curved forepeak. Making up the bed requires brute strength, a wrestling match with the mattress and cushion.
I let Mark do it.
The living space (galley and settee) have lots of deep windows on both sides, with shades that can be raised or lowered with a cord. My window décor is special. I call it “early arachnid.” Each window has a spider dangling from a web in almost exactly the center…very coordinated. Fortunately (for them as well as me) they are outside. Those of you who know me well know why I keep the shades lowered when they’re active.
Yes, this boat was designed by men. But it’s safe and stuff works, so I can’t really complain.
When we finally get home, the boat will need a paint job. The red hull has faded to pink. Someone actually asked me how I like living in a pink boat. I told them it went well with the grey and brown spiders, but not too well with the dark mosquito carcasses on the outer screens.
I’m going to press for a professional cleaning, too. After this trip, I deserve a different decorating scheme.