So I had this killer weekend planned.
Miss Carol had to work at the hospital on Sunday and so I’d planned a quiet, comfy, little weekend were I could work and write and drink and hang out with Cutter and Tug. Even the weather was supposed to cooperate- the forecast was chilly and rainy.
Beauty.
But then.
We went with some friends over to a bar on Friday and as we were headed over on his boat he said, why don’t we tow your boat out tomorrow?
Did I mention Una Mas has been having problems?
So. As I got drunker, I agreed and that killed Saturday, what with the towing and the trailering and the logistics and what not. But I was hopeful and hoping for a quiet Sunday thinkin’ that gettin’ the boat to a mechanic and having the mechanic fix it would take days or maybe weeks.
Boats are like that.
Enter Jerry.
Turns out there’s this local guy that not only knows everything about engines and mechanical stuff but understands the underlying theory to the point where he not only fixes shit but makes his own parts. He’s amazing.
I dropped the boat off on Saturday and on Sunday it was fixed. Damn. Meaning I had to pack a cooler and run her down the bay and back to her anchorage.
Which was great, but.
I’d really been wanting my quiet little weekend and I know this sounds like whining but it’s not. It’s more a like a plaintive screeching.
Which is better.
Right?
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