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Today, I have the EEYORE look. I’m not depressed but I’m bitterly ashamed of myself.

My life is as good as it gets. A loving husband that supports whatever crazy endeavor I undertake; two doggies who think I’m perfect; a beautiful home to return to when we take a break from wandering/motoring/cruising.

That’s the crux of the matter and the “well of my discontent.” Living on the boat for most of the year is like living in an alternate universe. Coming home for a month at most is a period of time into which we have to schedule doctors, dentists, dermatologists, neurologists, urologists, G.I specialists (those dreaded colonoscopies), orthopedic surgeons, haircuts for the both of us and finally a few “feel good” thingies just for me.

The dogs need visits to the vet, grooming and licenses to be renewed. The garden needs a touch of TLC; the house needs a major cleaning; there are cars everywhere and horrors, people! AND ABOVE ALL, not a single pelican perched on the piling at the dock!

No, coming home is no fun and I count the days until I can leave again, checking off each item as it’s completed. I grumbled, dear Lord, how I grumbled. Then, an unseen hand smacked me on the side of the head and I found myself bitterly ashamed.

I have so much and I’m complaining? I should be on my knees thanking God that I (a) live in a

country where all this stuff is available; (b) that I have access to all of it; (c) that I can afford it.

It was humbling to be pulled up short and yes, I deserve to look like Eeyore, albeit it for a different reason.


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