Slick Essentially I rolled out of bed this morning to the sound of "it's your aunt Godzilla on the phone". In other words this is the famed, "I'm-five-minutes-away-you-better-get-your-ass-down-to-the-door-to-be-my-slave-labour" call that I usually don't get until October. When I'm, you know, ready to take the boat out normally, and not rush things due to a gigantic oil spill.

I'd agreed to help, and had also forgotten to set my alarm clock, which you'd think was massively counterintuitive, but wasn't, because I said I would help, but all systems Emerson have been crying, "NOOoooooo... I don't wanna...."

I'm really choked that the season has ended so quickly, but at the same time, this morning, I was really sort of curious about what it would be like out there, so I busted a move into my clothes and went out the door.

When we got there, a few things happened. It started to rain. I got hit on by a young sailor man who I had never seen out there before, while lowering a boat mast. [1]We ended up doing no work on the boat whatsoever, and instead, I spent the afternoon reacquiring drywalling skillz that I never thought I'd ever have to use again, unless I got hit by the same 2 x 4 that compelled my parents to build two houses with small children.

Although, there is something to be said about the members of the Yacht club, and their construction attempts. Everyone is "the boss"--the power clashes never end, because these are guys who don't listen to anyone in the work world. They make the rules, and generally, they are assholes because of it. Ladies are constantly giggling about wearing coveralls while they "spackle the walls" because it's so charming to get one's hands dirty. The spackle itself is mixed in buckets that say things like "Bolero's Grape Must" [2] or "Captain Chunky's Slave bits". Breaks, occur often. Boys hem and haw about how usually they're in better shape for this kind of thing (like they do it all the time), and girls break out the Chiraz like it's the most normal beverage to drink while coated in drywall dust.

All things said...I actually enjoyed myself. I have always had a fondness for drywalling and construction, and it was just nice to be at the lake. Admittedly, I was pretty distracted by thoughts of else people, but not enough that I zoned out completely and drilled myself a new breathing hole.

At home, there has been a mutual agreement that blogging about your roommate is evil and demented. All brawls will be in meatspace from now on.[3]

I still feel like living here is just not real though, I have to admit. It isn't going away. I still am catching myself after...four days of official residence, feeling like I'm just on a sleep over.


[1] A tip to all the guys...asking girls out while surrounded by phallic imagery...will never work.

[2] A fancy way of saying mold--mold that you add to your homemade wine on the vineyard to coerce the flavour more. Mmm...I dig it. This is why I avoid Merlot. Or is it Pinot that has ...actually, I think all reds have a certain amount of mold in them... Oop- I smell the p- word.

[3] Big loud noisy brawls full of healthy verbal communication.  ¶ 11:48 PM