Someday Might Be Tomorrow
On Saturday night, after Mark and I had spent all day shuttling boxes from Mazurka to storage, I asked him, "Do you think someday we might look back on this and think we were crazy for living on a boat?"
"Someday might be tomorrow," he replied.
Sunday morning we found a brief lull in the gale force winds and took Mazurka for her final voyage down the Chicago River. She now sits comfortably in a cradle in heated storage, beside million dollar yachts.
I took one final picture of her in the water. "Till we meet again," I thought, because I was being melancholy and dramatic. In reality, till we meet again is probably next weekend, when we'll be back to give her a good thorough scrubbing.
Someday might be tomorrow, till we meet again is next weekend, and in the meantime? The meantime is Mark and me and two cats nestled very comfortably in a one-bedroom south loop condo, complete with dishwasher, in-unit laundry, and all the hot water you want to fill that nice, deep bathtub.
We made it just in time for the snow.