Nobody said it would be easy...

     

     The past week has been for me, one of the hardest of my life.  Nate and I have had such a rough one it's not even funny.  We've now moved onto 'the piece' as I like to call it, because that is exactly what it is.  Forget Wet Weilz or The Weil Deal or Weil Wet, the boat is really a large piece of crap and that's exactly what I'm calling it for now.  Please excuse my lack of better words there Mom, but seriously, it really is.  We moved onto 'the piece' Monday -which are never great days to begin with- but this monday in particular was especially horrible.  The first thing that greets us as we step down into the salon is a smell so strong and so potent I feel like laughing hysterically.  You know, like Jack Nicholson in The Shining when he's just hacked through the bathroom door with an axe and he's about to kill his wife?  Hysterical like that.  The smell is like a mixture of diesel, mildew, cat pee and rat poop all mixed together to make a cocktail of filth.  I have to turn away to stop from slitting my wrists right then and there.  We're sleeping here tonight?!?!?!?!  

     Tuesday was even worse.  I decided I would try to be proactive with the odor and start cleaning the 'heads' (also know as bathrooms to normal people).  Who named it 'head' anyway?  I refuse to call the bathrooms 'heads'.  Gross visuals seem to haunt me every time I utter the word.  Anyway, I'm cleaning one of the bathrooms with Clorox and water (like I've been told to do by the boat broker who sold us 'the piece'), and I'm scrubbing away with the odor constantly assaulting the heck out of my nose.  Suddenly, I'm realizing that what I thought was soil by the side of the toilet, you know, like soil from the earth, is actually soil from another...human...BEING!  I pause, and look at it on my new blue sponge from Target.  "Is this someone else's...you know what?"  I ask to nobody in particular.  OMG!  It is!!!!  I freak out privately with a germ dance.  Slowly, I place my used blue sponge down on the ground and turn around.  I try to calmly walk off the boat but inside I'm feeling a hot white panic attack that is about to erupt.  'I'm dying,' I tell myself out loud; 'and I'm in hell.'  Without really thinking about it, I start to run away from the boat at a moderate pace.  I don't really know where I'm going, but I just keep running away.  I ending up going for a very long run and then came back to 'the piece' a few hours later only to drink half a bottle of red wine and then cry myself to sleep.  Nate tried to console me with loving hugs, but I know he was freaked out too.  

     Wednesday I washed our two plates that we 'found' at the motel we were staying at prior to the boat, in a cooler with a garden hose.  Can I say that again?  In a COOLER with a GARDEN HOSE!  AHH!!!  I was forced to because the water in our tanks was so filthy and unclean, that the dishes would have been worse off by being rinsed by it.  After this experience I had to sit down and make a list of things that I liked about the 'the piece'.  The only thing I could come up with was that my husband was in this gong show with me.    

     Thursday we woke up to what sounded like rice krispies popping all around us, but they were loud gigantic rice krispies.  Nate seemed to think that it was just 'boat sounds', but I'm not convinced that that's the truth.  I'm sure it will be something fabulous and exciting.  Can't wait to figure that one out!  

     Friday (today) I'm realizing that I probably sound like I'm complaining.  Well, I am.  This really isn't fun at all and I hate that we have to go through it.  Where is the suntanning and the Coronas?  What happened to decorating the boat in a beach chic theme?  What happened to us?  What are we DOING?!  The worst part is, this may get a whole lot worse before it gets any better.  I feel I have a lot of character, I don't need to build more.  Yes, this is an adventure but seriously, can the adventure be a bit more manageable?  No body said it would be easy, they said it would be fun and enjoyable!  Well, pumping the toilet ten times in order for a number one to go down isn't my idea of fun and enjoyable.  

SOMEONE COME AND SAVE ME!!!!