My mother is apparently going to live on a sailboat in the Florida Keys. I know because she called to tell me this, and when I asked “Why?”, she informed me that it is something “that she has always dreamed of doing.”
I found this to be rather odd. I can say that I’ve known her fairly well for close to three decades, and I’ve never heard her mention a single thing about sailboats. In fact, I’m not sure I had ever heard her say the word “sailboat” until this conversation.
I was equally surprised at the sailboat revelation because as far as I know, neither she nor her husband have a particularly large amount of money available to them, and I have been under the impression that a 45-foot sailboat costs a little more than most folks have on hand. Some justifications and machinations involving renting their house and selling all their things were explained, as I glazed over and really thought about the logistics of this new lifestyle.
“What about your animals?” I asked.
“Well, we’ll have to find someone to take the cats,” she replied.
“What about the dogs?”
“Oh, they’ll be coming with us.”
“You’re going to live with two dogs on a sailboat?”
“Sure, why not?”
“What about when they need to go to the bathroom?”
“I’ll take them ashore in the dinghy.”
“You’re going to take them ashore every…oh, never mind. What about the parrot?”
“She’s coming too.”
“You’re going to live on a sailboat with Curtis, a terrier, a Shiba Inu, and a parrot?”
“Yep.”
“Does Curtis know how to sail?”
“We’re both going to learn.”
“Do you know how to maintain a sailboat?”
“We’re going to learn that too.”
“In the next couple of months?”
“Yep.”
I had to end the conversation at that point, since I felt like any further discussion would result in my having an aneurysm. Every day my family finds a new way to make me question both my and their collective sanity. A few more conversations like this and you’ll find me rowing the dinghy ashore so my Dalmations can take a piss on Key Largo and I can pick up some pellets for my guinea pigs.