We were awake early. Too excited at the prospect that, surely today would be the day we’d get our home. We had to wait until 8:30 for the marina office to open so we could get the keys. Heading down to our part of the marina, we were like two year olds on Christmas morning. Chattering and giggling. We each grabbed a few things and walked down to our slip. Number 23-1. Our boat. Ours. Opening the door was a little surreal as I harbored worries we would never really get this far. We stepped in to… furniture and junk. They didn’t remove everything! The general manager had said if things were left he would have some of the guys take it away. One phone call confirmed that but it was so disappointing. While we waited, we brought in our things. Our bed unfurled nicely. We didn’t yet have the balance of our possessions which were still in storage, so we bought an extra set of sheets to use until then. The bed is high. REALLY high. I’m gonna need a step stool, which does not bode well for my nightly bathroom visits.
As we made the trek back and forth between the car and boat, I started looking at our neighbor’s slips. Many had built elaborate dock space that was like a little apartment. (Why you need that when you have a big ass boat, I don’t know.) I came to the realization that we were living in a shanty town. Notice how the electrical lines hang on the building’s girders.
It reminds me of the stolen electricity in the slums of Jamaica.
Well it’s only for a few weeks and it does have its charms. It holds our boat.