The Perfect Boat, With Foot Stomping

This is an actual boat. I'm not making this up.

Is there such a thing as the perfect boat? Mike and I are smack in the middle of boat lust (at least we’re in it together) and so the concept of the ‘perfect’ boat is one we knock around a bit. I keep hearing and reading that everything on a boat is a “compromise” and, frankly, I’m getting pretty tired of hearing that already.  I’m beginning to feel more than a bit oppositional, so I thought I better get some stuff out of my system on the blog. That way I won’t have to stomp around the docks gesturing and pointing and generally having a hissy fit. Mike hates it when I do that.

I think the word ‘compromise’ actually means I’m being told ‘no’. Let’s be clear: I am a Leo and probably low on several hormones. Telling me no is probably not a very good idea. Saying ‘no’ to me brings out my inner 4 year old and like any 4 year old worth her salt, I become filled with stubborn insistence. There is a good reason for this. All 4 year old kids know that pretty much anything is possible in this world and that there is no good reason why amazing things cannot happen. Young children are in complete accord with all of the possibilities of the Universe. This is why they are constantly disappointed when adults get in their way by slinging around ridiculous concepts like ‘everything on a boat is a compromise’. So this is why these words make me want to run screaming and stamping my feet, probably with my hands over my ears yelling ‘LALALALALALA! I DON’T HEAR YOU!” I simply cannot allow these alleged grown ups to get in my way.

As an actual adult, in fact, I have learned to deal with this issue of the internal 4 year old by very carefully defining what things are important to me, and putting those things in terms that are ultimately pretty flexible, most of the time. That way the Universe doesn’t have to tell me no very often and risk my narcissistic rage. I like to protect the Universe from my narcissistic rage. I find that when defining the perfect boat, I can divide the definition into two parts: wants and needs. Tonight, my flexibility is waxing toward the ‘want’ category, probably because I’ve had too many Christmas cookies.

You’d think that the wants would be flexible and the needs be concrete but you’d be wrong. Remember we’re dealing with early childhood here. The wants are pretty much written in stone, and they mostly have to do with the interior of the boat and, hence, our comfort when aboard. For instance, I want a good master cabin with a berth that is large enough for both of us to move around at will, and that will allow me to get in and out without kicking Mike in the head. I also want room to store clothing. I want it and I’m going to get it. There is no reason why I cannot have it and I am not prepared to negotiate on this.  We’ve already ruled out two very nice boats because the master cabin was too small. Do you see how serious I am about this issue? Consider my foot stamped, hands on hips, lower lip looming large.

A worthy master cabin. Unfortunately this boat is in Virginia.

Another thing I want is two facing settees in the salon. I want these, and I want them to be big and comfortable and useful as sea berths. I want to be able to lounge around on them and read, and have room for lots of pillows. I will find a way to snug them up when they are needed as sea berths. Even though I will be on a boat, I refuse to believe that good sailing boats cannot be very comfortable inside. I do not accept that. The Universe is too big to be limited by those kinds of things. In my 4 year old mind, the salon is colorful and bright, and comfortable with plenty of light, like a tiny living room. There is plenty of room for all 4 of our family members to sit comfortably and there is a table that is useful when we want it, and that gets out of the way when we don’t. Let it be written, let it be done.

A nice salon. On the same boat in Virginia.

The last thing I want is a separate place for my son to sleep when he is on board. My feelings about this are strong, but I find myself getting flexible about how this is manifested. Ideally, he would have his own cabin. That would encourage him to want to spend more time with us, and also my daughter might consider using it at times if it had enough privacy. I really see no reason why I should not have this but I wax and wane about how much foot stomping and lip trembling I want to do about it. Probably that’s because I begin to feel a little like one of THOSE women who just wants a condo on the water. Honestly, if I thought I could actually HAVE a condo on the water, and that it would be a boat that was still a good sailor, then I’d say right on! Maybe I just don’t want to be seen as one of THOSE women, whoever they are. I’m thinking my I-want-itis is coming smack up against some other part of my ego. I hate when that happens.  When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.

This is the second cabin in the above boat, a Moody 376 that would be perfect if it were on the west coast.

Meanwhile, let the boat touring continue. We’re looking for that one amazing boat, and I know she is out there!




3 thoughts on “The Perfect Boat, With Foot Stomping

  1. You guys should really think about a cat. It would have everything you want and more. Either that or get yourself down to Virginia and buy THAT boat.

    I feel the same way about living in the Caribbean for 6 months of the year. I just want to stomp my foot and scream ‘WHY CAN’T I???’ Things were so much easier when I was 4. Now, half way through winding up for a full blown hissy fit, I remember that I am not independently wealthy and would have to work there and, thanks to Canada saying ‘no’ to Turks and Caicos when they asked if they could be part of us – I have nowhere in the Caribbean I can go and work without paying a fortune for the privilege.

    So I am buying lottery tickets. Keep your fingers crossed for me and if I win the big one, I will help you buy your dream boat. Promise.

  2. Don’t you just hate when that internal adult steps in and causes you to be more reasonable?
    I hear you about the fortune, too. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for your lottery ticket if you’ll keep yours crossed for mine. ‘Course, I have to buy one first!

  3. Pingback: Gods of Scotland: Battles, Skirmishes, and Rumbles | Little Cunning Plan

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