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I’m like the walking dead, I haven’t had a day off in a month.  I’m up at 530 working on Sookie, then it’s off to work seven days a week and back to the boat till dark.  I’ve never been this burned out in my life.  Every inch of my body hurts from being run over by a boat.  My days are like running a marathon, my nights, sanctuary in my little one man tent.

Every morning I wake and I can’t move, my spine feels like it is cracked in half.  Slowly I force myself up, my knees swollen still from yesterday but morning brings coffee and the smell of teak sawdust, the rich aroma of freshly laid varnish, paint and all sorts of sealants.

Every day I swear I’m done with traditional boats, my next boat will be all plastic with metal hand rails and an aluminum toe rail and I will love it for its lack of necessary maintenance.  Each and every morning I swear this but by the pale light of the setting sun with a cool beer in my hand I inspect the days pitiful progress and I smile.  I touch Sookies bow and I proclaim my love to her.

I’m burned out on boats and sailing and living aboard, I want to be as far away from this time in my life that I can but in some deep place I know I will shed a silent tear when I walk away.  I could splash her today and spend another winter aboard  but I won’t.  I need to recharge and find a new zen.  I’ve been in a coma for over a year, my brain isn’t firing and I can’t do anything right.  My burger and fries a day that I’m alloted from the resort galley has me looking like I’m pregnant, I feel stagnant because I am, all my days blur to no purpose and I still don’t even know why.

I glance at my watch, it’s time to clock in, I glance at my calander and wonder how I can survive the next month but also know it’s nearly impossible to finish here in time, to leave before winter catches me.  I’m in a weakened  state both mentally and physically but that date keeps me focused, it’s a very small window of freedom that the road affords.  When my ride ends I’ll be broke a thousand miles from home and it will be winter, this is my freedom, my choice, my life.  I stretch and squirm and let out a morning roar.  I’m not following the path less taken, I’m making my own…

“They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.” 

― Benjamin Franklin

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