Cold, Colds and Colder

In all of my daydreams and fantasies about living on a boat, I always pictured myself as strong and healthy (and of course young and thin, but that goes without saying…). Somehow, I never considered what it would be like to get the flu or some other malady while living in this cramped space, surrounded by water, and with all of the inconveniences that involves. We didn’t even have any cough medicine on board. Yeah. My bad.

I came back to the boat from a two-day trip to Baltimore with a slight but annoying cough. Oh well, a summer cold, I thought. It’ll be short-lived in the heat. I’ll probably barely notice it. We had friends scheduled to visit us in Rockland with their two young teenaged boys, driving over from Vermont for a weekend of fun and sailing.  “Sure, come-on ahead,“ I said.

Beautiful - but freezing - Penobscot Bay

Meanwhile, the weather had gotten colder. The days were still nice, sunny even, but they were cold enough to no longer be shorts and t-shirt weather, and the night times were downright frigid. By the time our friends arrived, my cough had turned into a dry hacky rattle, and I really felt like dirt. They had already planned to spend their nights in a hotel, but the thought of hosting even these best of friends in our little abode for meals and sailing made me want to crawl into the bottom of my sleeping bag and never come out again. How awkward when the source of entertainment you have to offer is also your bedroom. Or in this case, sickroom, cesspool, etc.. It didn’t help that I was also in desperate need of a shower.

I made Rick meet them on shore and try to keep them entertained there. They spent the entire weekend going to museums, parks, restaurants and movies, all things I would have loved to do. Instead, I was left alone on the boat to drown in my own phlegm, binge watching The Handmaid’s Tale and hacking up a lung. On the last day of their visit, Rick went in early to meet our friends for breakfast before their long drive back home, and before he left I made a request that he bring me back a scone or muffin or something. I’d been living on peanut butter sandwiches and was deeply longing for something more palatable to eat with my tea, as long as I didn’t have to hover over a stove and make it myself. I also wanted to feel like I got something even remotely fun out of the weekend. When Rick returned with nothing (he forgot), I acted just like the five-year-old I really am and cried.

That night, Rick tried to lift my spirits by taking me in for the ultimate boaters’ date – a shower and dinner ashore. Unfortunately, the showers at the public dock required tokens, and the person who sells the tokens had already gone home. We went to dinner anyway, Rick looking handsome and wonderful (he had taken a shower at our friends’ hotel), and me with very dirty hair, no makeup, a red, raw nose, and a noisy, ugly cough. Of course, the waitress spent a good deal of time flirting with Rick. This is a somewhat usual occurrence – a natural consequence of marrying someone more beautiful than myself – but on this particular evening it was unusually deflating.

I did get slowly better over the next couple of days. We even managed to go in for a movie at The Strand (the BEST vintage theater EVER!) and got Rockland lobsters to steam on the boat.

Now we’re at Southport Island, near Boothbay, laying over for a few days while parts arrive for some work we need done to our engine. My wretched cough is unfortunately still hanging on, but at least Rick hasn’t come down with it. You’d think that being south of Rockland would give us warmer weather, but the cold seems to have followed us down here. The last few days have hovered in the low sixties with big winds and some rain, but the nights have gotten down to the mid-forties, cold enough to pile on all of the extra blankets. Thank heaven for our little propane heater.

Definitely time to head South.