My new motto. Image: Agatha & Louise
In the "oh crap" category: Soon after I moved aboard, I was climbing onto the boat and my keys slipped out of my jacket pocket and into the water. It was low tide, and we were able to find them with the use of a large magnet on a rope. Alas, the electronic car remote died, despite all attempts to save it. 




While I know some people on each of the harbor's docks, my friends are my neighbors; we live on the same dock. We share DVDs, books, gossip, job tips, walks, meals, wine. We feed each other's pets, give rides, loan fans and coats, help each other with repairs. It rocks.
Technically, Tom Hanks' home in "Sleepless in Seattle" was not a houseboat, but a floating home.
When you live on the water, you're aware of exactly when the sun rises, and when it sets, and the day seems much longer. 

Inspiration for my galley re-do. (No green paint, though.)
Not long ago I ran into DS, who painted my boat before I moved on board. He said, "You look like a vagabond who lives on a boat." First I figured he just meant casual (jeans, flip-flops, linen men's shirt), but then I thought maybe he meant a hobo, a bum? The next time I saw him, I mentioned it, and he said he must have meant "a carefree spirit." Okay then.
When I was first thinking about buying a houseboat, I found this article in the Chronicle.
1. Look -- really look -- at your bank statement.


There was a great article in the New York Times a few days ago about an Egyptian houseboat and its fascinating owners. (I especially like the cozy cabin/stateroom.)
Lily's my sidekick. I adopted her when she was five, and for the past eight years, she's gone practically everywhere with me. Since she went blind a couple of years ago, I've become her seeing-eye person. She's the reason I ended up with a Cruise-a-Home -- it's just one level, so it's easy for her to get around.