Last night we may as well have been swinging 'round a mooring can in Monroe Harbor.
We arrived home just in time to watch the blizzard winds whipping Mazurka like a flimsy flag, pounding her port-side bow against the dock, the new fender busted off its hook and floating down the Chicago River.
When docked on the Chicago River, lines have to be kept somewhat loose; the water level changes so suddenly and dramatically (it's not unusual for the level to drop or rise three feet in an hour), that lines pulled tight can inflict a lot of damage. So with loose lines, and extra fenders out, we whipped back and forth all night long. Mark got up twice to check the port-side, fix the fenders, keep an eye on the tearing shrinkwrap.
Around 2:30 I thought about going out to help him in sub-zero temperatures; then I had the thought which still comes up occasionally: "It was your dream to live like this," and I burrowed down and went back to sleep.
This morning, it's zero degrees, but we're still floating.
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I'm glad that you are still floating. I thought about you when I listened to the weather up in Chicago. It is 73 here and we all have long sleeves and sweat shirts, but I still wish I was there. Just keep thinking, this is only temporary and it will soon be spring. Keep warm.
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