Hooray, we’re finally back in the water.
We were lifted out of our storage cradle by a huge crane and gently placed between the inflatable folds of the amazing sealift for our short trip down the ramp and our splash.
I hope the little mouse that ate my crackers last night got off the boat before we launched because if it didn’t, it’s too late and I’m out to get you. We have a full array of snacks set out for your pleasure: peanut butter, chocolate and cheese. They’ll all enticingly arranged in pretty black boxes. Enter and walk down the hall. Don’t worry, the shiny metal door closes automatically after you. No one will ever say we treat our guests poorly.
We’re staying at the dock to charge our three new super-duper batteries via shore power for a day. After that, we’ll rely on our solar panels for all our power needs. We have three already and when the wind dies down we’ll be adding a fourth. It’s here, in my salon, leaning up against my nice leather cushions and teak table, on my newly finished, shiny, teak floors. We always have a project in process, something keeping us from being just right.
As long as the sun shines, which it does three hundred and sixty days a years, with the fourth panel and our new batteries we won’t need to run the generator, at least in the world according to Bill. Bill is Corcovado’s power manager, my Amp Nazi husband. He has switches for all the boat’s power circuits next to his desk. This power panel tells him little secrets with red digital lights. When I’ve been bad, the panel warns him and click, click, he shuts my power off with the flick of his big toe.
Thank God, we have kindle and real books and flashlights and candles. I can still beat him, he can’t get control. He promises that fourth solar panel will make him a better person. He won’t need to oppress. So the sooner the better I say. Get it out. Install it. No more delay.