And, what have I accomplished? First, and perhaps most importantly I have a realistic view of my finances. Second, I have a serious concern about my boat's seaworthiness. Third, I am overcome with sentimentality. Fourth, I am emerging into those feelings that accompany the Grateful Dead's bemoan, "I Could Be Going to Hell,,,," Fifth, same ol' same ol.
Being precise with my expenditures is critical. For the past 23 months I have lived in ignorance. Not in the sense of being too stupid to know type of ignorance. Rather, ignorance in that I simply ignored what could be the truth. Taking a snapshot of my income and expenses was a painful reminder that Danny was not here to supplement any shortcomings I may endure. The truth about taking action that avoids pain is best described in my behavior. All the advisors, financial, family, and mental health consultants agreed a grieving widow should not make any major life changes for the first two years after the death of their loved ones. Except for the major puchase of SPRAY, I stayed in our house.
For the first year and half SPRAY proved to be a fine vessel for sailing the world. All expenses were budgeted for and my chief boatadvisor was readily available. Things in the boat owner's world can sure change in a hurry. O.K. so I made a careless error by getting the line caught in the prop. Eighteen hundred dollars later the problem was fixed. While out of the water it became clear that SPRAY's centerboard needed reconstructive surgery. While getting that done a 'yard ape' drove the forklift into her belly. Supposedly it was fixed by the guy whose workmanship is not much better than my pitiful application of anything gooey, in need of sanding and producing a professional finish. A week after getting SPRAY back to her home dock water seepage was noticed. My poor boat advisor has had personal challenges such I will not take a second of his time to confer with me. Afterall, when I'm in the South Pacific I'll have to make tough decisions about SPRAY's care on my own. Might as well start now.
Third, deciding to sell my house brought such a flood of tears I soaked my girlfriend's sofa cushions while we watched the Presidential debate last night. Even after returning to my beloved beach house, I lied awake until 4 in the morning while enough tears streamed down my face to saturate the inner core of my wood/epoxy boat. How do I walk (sail) away from what took fifty years to earn? How do I sell, give away, or store my most precious memories? How do I???? --- "Oh hush, I know, take a deep breath, take action, and don't look back !"
Fourth, when I decide to untie from the dock, OMG! I can hear the refrain now, "I could be going to hell in a bucket, but at least I will enjoy the ride!" It's amazing the way music sets my mood motivating me to live in the moment--happily.
Fifth, in the end it is the, 'same old, same old. My writing a satire on dress, which is a good one, my misplacing things like my driver's license, my impulsively buying a house warming gift for my long time friend who finally moved closer than 1200 miles away, are typical of my behavior. It was the perfect gift, not just any old trinket or cheap bottle of wine. It's the roller coaster lifestyle I have always lived. T-G not clincially manic/depressive, but in a sense of humor kind of way I'm either really excited (sailing to far off places), or really depressed (not being able to have it all), or worst of all, despondent.
So, like Romney's 5 point plan, this has been my five point summary of life as I live it!