Life is funny. That’s a fact. Sometimes you find yourself in a place you swore you would never in up. For me, it was Florida. Now don’t start jumping to conclusions. Florida is great and I made some amazing friends there. It just wasn’t here. While I was there, I met someone (yes, a man) and found myself in a wonderful relationship. When it was time for me to return to my island home, I gave him complete freedom to make his own decision: stay there or come with me. Lucky for me, he chose the later.
Now we live in St. Thomas with my cat on our sailboat. Our little boat. Our very little boat. Our 27 foot boat, and to be honest with you, it’s taken a little getting used to. This boat is not only our home, but it’s my office as well, so it took a bit of creativity to make it work, especially if I was going to continue to run my own business. Now I hate to be the one to dissolve anyones fantasy, but living on a boat is not all fun and games. The first obstacle I had to overcome was – you guessed it – space. Laptops, when not it use, must be securely shut and wedged into a corner that’s safe from the swells of passing vessels. Client files must be kept together and always in the same spot. No exceptions. It’s common knowledge to boat owners that if you put something down absentmindedly, even if for a second, it will vanish into that black hole we call “down below.” What makes it a bit easer for us is that we are on the dock, not out on a mooring ball, so we do have access to shore power, which is necessary for my laptop. To connect to the internet I have a broadband stick that I plug into the side and – viola – unlimited internet access for $50 a month. (I got it from Virgin Mobile if you want to look into it.) It’s nice because if I want a change of scenery for inspiration I can go work at the beach or one of the uninhabited islands just across the lagoon.
I guess you could say living on a boat is like running a business. I have to be very organized. There are no closets on this boat, only cubby holes. All clean clothes are rolled up and stuffed into their appropriate hole. The trick is, if I get them right out of the dryer and role them up really tight – no wrinkles. Well, mostly no wrinkles. Joe and I have a system down. We take turns getting up. What I mean by that is there’s not really enough room for us to both fix a plate of food or make a drink at the same time, so we deicide who goes first, unless I ask really, really nicely and then he’ll make a drink for me. But I only do that sometimes. No, really I do.
At the end of the day, it’s all worth it to me. Nothing is perfect so you’ve got to figure out how to make it work for you. I’m curious. What do you do to make things fit in your world? I’d love to hear about it.