We Are Coming to America
Posting At Sea

The Blame Game

Here’s the thing about EW and me: He keeps, I throw. It all began when I first moved in with him over 30 years ago. The master bedroom closet was tiny and some of his stuff had to go. He had a huge “collection” of ugly ties, most with a paisley motif, which I convinced him were very out of date. When paisley returned to prominence years later he bemoaned the loss of his ties, something I’m still hearing about. On the boat. Where he wears a tie less than once a year and has at least five on board. Turned out the ties were a red herring. When we moved out of that apartment to our first (and only, so far) land home, I was stunned and appalled at the amount of stuff EW had “hidden” in the landlord’s barn attic, the basement, and other places. We moved it all to the home and tossed much of it when we moved aboard the boat fifteen years later.

Now that the groundwork has been laid, here is a report on a recent conversation aboard

We are each coming up with our own personal To-Do list for boat projects, and since we expect to undertake many of these projects while we are in the Western Caribbean, we are making purchases of parts and supplies here. One of my projects is to touch up the white paint in each of the cabins. I had done the forward cabin over year ago in preparation for guests and knew that the bit of Petit paint left would not be enough for the rest of the boat.

Me: Honey, do we have more of that white paint for the inside? Where is it? (This is a fair question. Just like our former land homes, EW has parts and boat stuff stored (hidden) in various nooks and crannies. Now that I’ve experienced living aboard at sea, on remote islands, and where familiar parts aren’t available, I’m good with that. Extra parts are a good thing.)

EW: Except for what’s left in that one quart can, we don’t have any more.

Me: Really? I thought we had more.

EW: We did have more. We had at least four or five cans. You made me give them away.

Me: I have no recollection of that.

EW: (With tone) Well, you did, (He was not pleased with me.) You said we didn’t have room for it.

Me: Well, clearly I was wrong. You should have overridden me and saved a couple of quarts.

EW: (More tone.) You’re kidding right? It’s my fault you don’t have the paint you told me to get rid of?

Me: (Carefully toneless and therefore innocent.) Of course. You knew we would need it. Why would you get rid of all of it?

EW: (I really can’t describe the sound he made.)Really? (Now he really wasn’t happy.)

Me. (Laughing) Well, yeah. When did this happen? I don’t even remember it?

He walked away, which is hard to do when one is on a boat on a mooring.

Later, I did remember it and EW is right in that I did insist the paint had to go. In all fairness to me, this occurred during the final two months prior to leaving Maine, when I discovered that EW had appropriated not one, not two, not three, but four…count them…four storage lockers at the boatyard and they were all full of stuff. While I had been cleaning out our major storage locker and hosting yard sales, he had … done other things. By the time I found the paint I was in a tossing frenzy.

Still, EW should have known better. This comes under the heading of “I wish you wouldn’t be so insistent when I know I’m right.” He was right. I was insistent. We both lose. This week EW found and purchased one quart of the exact right paint at Budget Marine in St. Thomas. One quart will hold us for a few years.

And yes, I know it’s not really his fault. It’s not his fault at all. But let’s not tell him I said that until he finds this post on his own.


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