Expectation Management

We've officially pushed over the one-week mark, and one thing is certain: we need better air conditioning!

Unlike our first night here, where an I-think-I-can window unit, some ginger ale boxes and duct tape were all that stood between us and the sultry night, our boat is now being "cooled" by a marine air conditioner. In quotes, yes, because there's only so much temperature reduction you can squeeze out of a machine of unknown vintage trying to cool a space being baked from above by the sun and boiled from below by tropical water.

For me, it's a study in expectation management. When I conceived of this crazy plan, I envisioned a cool, comfortable workspace below by day and a frosty cave by night. Here, John and I would live a writer's life -- working late into the night, sleeping until well past sunup in the morning (yes, our kids allow that!) and sitting down at the computers after a leisurely breakfast with Ian and Eve. While it's true we sometimes stay in bed longer than we probably should, a steadily rising swelter down below forces us up and out by mid-morning, after which we stew in our own sweat until the sun goes down. Thankfully, I'm not particularly girlie about sweat, and John, being a native Floridian, sees it as the price of paradise.

Expectations, then. I've found that the divide between what you think and what is can be the most vexing part of life, and I'm not terribly patient about it most of the time. I came here expecting it to be hard -- or at least harder than it would be at home -- and I was right. Expectation meets reality. So far, so good. But the devil's in the details, and some of the little annoyances with the potential to become big ones weren't as clear to me before this week. Like how difficult it is to be hot -- REALLY HOT -- all the time.

Another is the compounding stress of always being together. I'm not proud of it and don't get me wrong, I love my family dearly, but not having even a minute where I'm not with or near someone takes some getting used to. I expected -- there's that word -- the kids to do what was typical when we visited for a weekend: hit the beach and stay there for the day. In fact, they've been on the beach very little since we moved aboard. Most often they're parked in the vberth soaking up what little cool air our AC spits out in the afternoon or sitting next to us while we work. Some of that is the iPad, a true blessing and curse, but some of it is the heat and the ready availability of it all. No longer do they have to cram as much as they can into 48 hours before returning to reality. This is reality, and like it or not, we all have a tendency to accept our current reality as a permanent condition. There's always time in the future for whatever activity we could be doing now.

It was a therapist who first taught me to understand the emotional roller coaster that a lack of expectation management sets you on, and I thank him. I don't always do it right, but at least I'm aware of what's going on and eventually can process it. John has said on occasion that my demonstrated lack of tolerance for any kind of set back or difficulty gives him cause to worry that I might not adjust well to life under sail. Out there, when something breaks, you figure out how to fix it, and it might not be as simple as it first appears. You might end up with bloody knuckles and a strained back, but your engine will start or your sail will furl and unfurl as it should, and that could be the difference between making it back to port or not. Fair point. But if I can master the art of "expecting" at the dock, I figure I might just be able to at sea. So, should I expect we'll push off one day? The optimist in me says absolutely!

Sunset off Kinsale's stern, Boca Chica Marina, NASKW, August 12, 2012.