Snow Day!

I woke up early this morning and checked my work e-mail. At the very top of the list was an e-mail that announced that work is closed today due to the weather. I have a snow day!



I sent out an e-mail to tell the instrument service engineers not to show up to work, posted the 'snow day' status on Facebook, then got dressed and went outside.

The last time that I played in the snow was on my birthday of this year. My sister and I specifically drove to Palm Springs and took the aerial to the top of the mountain. We hiked a bit in the half-melted ice-snow amongst the hundreds of other Los Angelenos who were slipping and sliding on the snow. Growing up in Wisconsin, we took snow for granted. In Southern California, we treasured the snow.

Not only do I get to play in the snow today, but I get a SNOW DAY! I feel like a little kid again. I don't have forgotten homework due, and I don't have anywhere to be today. I feel like I won a day of absolute freedom!

First thing outside, I was an adult and headed out the door with a broom and an ice scraper. I swept the snow off the stairs and front stoop. There was a layer of ice underneath the snow, but I'm hoping that the sun will melt it and dry the sidewalk today.



Then I brushed and scraped the ice and snow off of my car, and ran the engine for a few minutes to make sure it was still okay.



Then I walked around the neighborhood. I saw people walking their dogs and salting the parking lot.





When I got home, I made some warm cereal. It was something my mom used to make for my sister, brother, and me after playing in the snow.

While uploading the photos that I took today, I found the following photos on the same memory card. I took them in Florida exactly two weeks ago from today:







>

What a contrast, huh?

Nomadic Living

I'm currently in Florida at a conference and I've been here long enough that I am homesick and exhausted. The problem is that I'm not sure where I am homesick for.

I was initially homesick for Seattle because it is where my current life is centered. But as I sat there with the sun and the tropical beachy environment I realized that I'm also homesick for California, Wisconsin, and a lot of other places that I have lived. I'm homesick for the coziness of living in a place where I have a history AND a future. I'm not homesick for a where, I'm homesick for a what.

I have planted and uprooted myself too many times over the past 20 years and this move to Seattle was supposed to last me a while. I planned on digging in and establishing my life in Seattle, but now I'm not sure that I can (or should). So if you move from place to place like this, where is home?

There was a reality tv/documentary type show on television about people working with the Big Apple Circus a few nights ago. Circus people move from place to place all the time, but they move with all their things and their community. Leaving the circus and living in one place for a long period of time is their version of moving away. I imagine it's the same for the nomadic people in Mongolia. The trauma doesn't come from the moving, the trauma comes from leaving the tribe.

So I guess part of my feeling is the homesickness for MY tribe. My tribe is spread out throughout the world and I am in touch with most people through e-mail, facebook, twitter, and the phone. I can 'reach out and touch someone' with my multi-function internet accessible cell phone. But that small cell phone device is a poor substitute for a real human.

However it seems right now that having a tribe is not enough to fully comfort me. I think what I really miss is a feeling of certainty and stability in my future. The truth is this feeling is all an illusion because we never REALLY know our future, but I miss feeling like I do. There are certain things that I have control over in my life, and other things that I don't. I accept this, but it would be nice if the cosmos would cut me a break every now and then.

Settling on land

I've been so busy with moving and unpacking that I neglected to post the following photo of the neighbors' houseboat that was decorated for Halloween:

From Houseboat

I've now lived on land for a few days and though I miss the scenery and easy commute, I really like my full (grown-up sized) kitchen and worry-free toilet. I also love the feeling of warmth and solidity of living on land.

One thing that I did take from houseboat living is the need to live with fewer things. I have been purging stuff and it has been relatively easy so far. However, I haven't gotten to my books yet. Purging books is always really hard for me. Would anybody out there like a contribution to your library?

Cleaning up and moving on

I'm on the houseboat packing up my things and cleaning up after myself. I took the sheets and towels to my land apartment yesterday and washed them this morning. I debated whether I should wash the duvet cover and table cloth too, but I'm not sure if they are machine washable so I'll leave them for the homeowner to clean. There is a clothes washer on the houseboat, but they have no dryer so the owner usually hangs the wash up in the bedroom to dry.

It is raining again. I'm going to miss the calmness of sitting at the table and watching the rain through the houseboat windows. I'm also going to miss watching and hearing the seaplanes take-off and land.

Did I get the peace that I wanted out of houseboat living this month? Yes, I think that I did. What surprised me was that it wasn't the quiet and tranquil peace that I expected at all. It was the kind of peace you get when you feel awake and life surrounds you and you feel full.

This was a great experience to distract me during the transition at work. I was able to escape (at least a little) from the day-to-day emotional turmoil there. A month later, people have resigned themselves to their worst possible fate and the roller coaster is moving more slowly now. I still don't know what is going to happen to us, and I'm still trying to decide what I will do IF they offer me a job on the East Coast.

Regardless, this experience was a part of Seattle that I will always cherish regardless of where I land.

I've now wasted too much time blogging, I've got to get back to sweeping the floor!

I am the slayer

At one of the floating homes I looked at for rent, the homeowner pointed out that a beaver was chewing-up the flagpole. In the week since it was erected, at least 3-4 inches deep of wood had been gnawed off. A duck floated by as the homeowner said that they saw wildlife all the time.

I assumed that I would see some sort of wildlife this month-- at least a duck or goose or fish. But all I have seen around here are spiders.

I've been fighting a constant battle with the spiders since the beginning. There were at least 20 spiders that I counted inside of the houseboat. I vacuumed and cleaned every day that first week and they seemed to stay away... or so I thought.

This evening I came into the second floor bedroom and turned on the lights. Hanging right over the pillow on the bed was a big spider (1 inch long body). I shooed it over to the desk with a piece of paper, but when I lifted the bedspread there was a big spider trying to run away. I'm not sure if it was the same spider or another, similar looking, spider. I couldn't stand the thought of spiders dropping onto my head while I slept so I got a paper towel and killed it (with apologies to you Buddhists).

I am not going to miss the spiders in this place at all. I thought they were all gone with the cold weather. I guess not. Spider kingdom: Stay away from me if you don't want to be squished or vacuumed into oblivion. I *am* the Spider Slayer! Oh, and Happy Halloween too!

My month of houseboat living is almost over. The weather is relatively calm again so I am going to spend tonight on the boat. It isn't stormy, but it is cold. It's 42 degrees and falling according to the marina thermometer. Those little space heaters are working hard, and it's probably in the upper 50's inside the houseboat right now.

It is funny how I have completely adjusted to the quirky features of houseboat living. I rarely notice the boat moving anymore even though I know it is moving, and that feeling of constant rocking when I am on land is starting to go away. I am also proud to say that I have had no problems with the marine head all month!

Would I live on a houseboat again? Yes. This has been a great experience. I'd even do it again in the winter--even though the storm the other night was a little unsettling. My experience has been fun, calming, adventurous, and really beautiful. It wasn't perfect-- which made it perfect for me.

Houseboat living isn't for everybody. I wouldn't live on a houseboat with small children or if I weren't able to crawl up stairs and hop over boards easily. I also don't think it's the best place if you are not already in good health since the exposure to the elements is sort of taxing. And as I've noted before, it's not for claustrophobics, arachnophobics, pack-rats, anti-socials or privacy-seekers, extremely tall or big people, people who get motion sick easily, and skittish people.

But besides that, houseboat living isn't as off-the-beaten-path as you'd think. It feels more natural and human than the 30 story concrete high-rise I lived in before the houseboat. Most of my high-rise neighborly contact was limited to small-talk in the elevator and the concrete insulated me from hearing other people. My houseboat experience has been the opposite. In fact, I hear my neighbors when they use their toilets. You can't get much more natural and human than that!

In a turbulent and crazy time of my life, houseboat living has turned out to be a good distraction.

Not in the mood to rent Perfect Storm

Last night was a rough night on the houseboat. The wind and rain sounded fierce. I curled up in bed and tried to sleep, but I ended up dreaming that the boat was rocking so much that I had to grip the sides of the bed to keep from falling out. When I woke up, the pelting rain and howling wind made it sound like a hurricane outside. But the houseboat was not moving as much as in my dream and it didn't look as bad outside as it sounded-- though the wind was blowing the flags straight and the plants sideways.

I woke up several times in the night and finally got out of bed around 5:30 a.m. It was dark, the boat was rocking, and I was groggy. I was off-balance and I knocked my shin against and missed a step as I was going down the ladder. I have several bruises on my shin from knocking that ladder, and I have whacked my head on the bulkhead several times. A houseboat is not a place for uncoordinated people. It's probably not that comfortable if you're tall or big either.

It just reminds me that safety is one of those things I take for granted when I am on land. Just walking from the parking lot down the dock requires some care at the houseboat. Lake Union is so deep that anything dropped in the water is gone forever. Plus the floating dock is uneven and moves a lot when there are waves.

The houseboat owner called me tonight and said that last night is about the worst that it gets. I'm glad to hear that. She said that she was scared the first night she experienced a storm like that and even after all of these years she sometimes worries about the houseboat staying seaworthy. During the storm I started to wonder what would happen if the ropes came loose and the houseboat became free of the dock and started to drift off on its own.

I don't have the energy to go through another night of rough weather so I decided to sleep in my land apartment. I can hear the wind blowing through the trees but it doesn't scare me one bit on solid ground. On the other hand, I need some time to get used it on the water.

It was a dark and stormy night...

If today's weather is any indication, the rainy season in Seattle has started. I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and could hear the wind blowing against the side of the houseboat and rain pelting the roof and skylight. I went downstairs and sat at the dining table and watched the neighboring boats rock back and forth. One boat was not tied tightly and moved back and forth between 3 and 5 feet. It was fun for me to watch, though I don't think the occupant had too much fun. I saw him get off the boat and just leave as the weather started to get a little more active.

I had fun at first, but this wore off when the winds and waves picked up even more. It actually started to get a little scary and I was wondering if tall houseboats ever tip over if the wind is really strong. The bobbing motion was getting to be a little too much so I went over to my new land-based apartment and unpacked boxes.

I had plans to have dinner with a friend of mine this evening (it's Seattle Restaurant Week) and came back to the houseboat to shower and change clothes. I scrubbed down the tub then took a nice hot bath. The hot bath water felt like a decadent pleasure compared to the cold and wet weather outside. I could have fallen asleep in there. If I ever live on a houseboat or floating home again, I am going to make sure that it has a bathtub with hot running water!

The rain and winds are still hitting the side of the houseboat as I write this. I can tell that it's going to be another rough weather night. I can't imagine what it is like to live here in the winter after several months of rain. The weather forecasts predict a week of stormy weather. I think that Mother Nature will be giving me a taste of the winter-to-come in this last month of October.

Free!

The movers delivered my boxes and furniture last Thursday and I've been unpacking ever since. There is nothing quite like seeing everything you own unloaded and lined up against an apartment wall. I own way too much stuff for one human being. I have been living without it for the past 3 months and have been fine. It would have been nice to have had some of it these past few months, but most of it is stuff that just sits in a closet or cabinet and rarely gets taken out and used.

If I ever wanted to live in a houseboat full time, I would have to get rid of 90% of my stuff. Either that or spend a lot of money on a really big boat.

When I returned back to the marina this evening, Someone had placed a box in the marina parking lot with a sign that said "Free! Glasses, Cups, Beer and Wine. Please take me." I feel like contributing to that box... and then some.

Neighbors

It's hard to escape your neighbors when you live on a houseboat.

The boats/houseboats are densely docked a few feet (if not a few inches) from each other, they have lots of windows to see the views, and they have relatively thin walls. Claustrophobic and private people would not do well living on a houseboat.

There are a few obvious pluses to this type of living-- friendly neighbors have kept me up-to-date on the goings-on around the marina. I don't worry about crime because this place has the ultimate neighborhood watch. And when friends came over recently, a friendly neighbor navigated them around the marina to the houseboat.

On the other hand, I close the curtains every evening to maintain a little bit of privacy. I have relaxed a little about the lack of privacy over the month and I really don't care if people watch me surfing the internet or cooking dinner. In fact, it's sort of fun for me to sit at the dining table and watch 'Dancing with the Stars' on the neighbors' big-screen t.v. There is no doubt that living here is the on-water equivalent to living in a glass house. I see my neighbors' coming and goings, and they see me coming and going.

There is a younger Microsoft guy in the boat to my right, and a middle-aged woman with 2 dogs in the boat to my left. Beyond her is a 30-something woman who doesn't cook but is willing to go drinking anytime! Next to her is a lively couple who are probably in their mid to late 50's. The wife keeps up on everything that is going on around the marina and I've talked to her several times. On the next dock over there is also a mix of younger (20'ish) people with older (50-60'ish) couples. It's an interesting mix. The only common element seems to be friendliness and relative health. I think that the logistics of boat living make these two things necessary.

The one neighbor that I *still* haven't gotten used to is the Chinese restaurant. They had that techno-pop music blasting until 2 a.m. again. I was too tired to leave or call somebody to have them quiet it down. At the same time, the noise kept me from getting a good nights' sleep.

Rethinking fake flowers in bathrooms

The houseboat owner is back in town. She called me to ask if she could swing by and pick up one thing that she needed right now. I was dealing with the movers today so she let herself into the houseboat.

When I got back tonight, I wondered what she thought of the place. I know it is cleaner than how she left it, but I also moved a few things into a closet. In the dining area, I moved a few of her Jesus portraits. I left the 12 portraits that she had hanging on the bulkhead, and moved 4 that she had placed all around the dining table. I have no problems with Jesus. But I didn't feel comfortable having people over to the houseboat with Jesus staring at them while they drink their beers.

I also moved a huge set of fake flowers that she had in the bathroom to the entry room. They were so big that they covered up half of the mirror and just took up way too much room in a tiny bathroom (though they did create a nice visual color balance in the room). Unfortunately the flowers have absorbed the bathroom odor-- even after being out of the bathroom for several weeks, they still smell like the bathroom and make the entry smell like the bathroom.

To describe the odor, I need to first describe the toilet. It is a special marine head that grinds the waste product before sending it to the storage tank. The grinding makes the resulting product smell a little like burnt hair. The bathroom sort of smells like day-old diapers. Most of the smell is confined to the bathroom, though now the entry smells like it because I moved the flowers.

It could be much worse. One of the houseboats that I visited had a toilet that burned the waste product. The entire houseboat had a very strong smell. It was a beautiful boat and I would have loved to live there, but I kept smelling it for the next day afterwards. And it definitely did not smell like roses.

The marine plumbing guys came by and emptied out the waste tank last week while I was at work. Ever since, the smell in the bathroom seems to be noticeably less.

But I can still smell it in the entry with those flowers. I'll move everything back to their original positions before I move-out, but I wonder if the houseboat owner realizes that her fake flowers don't smell anywhere close to real flowers.

Sleepless in Seattle house

I've run past the dock where the 'Sleepless in Seattle' house is moored many times because it is a few docks north of the houseboat. I've been asked quite a few times if I've seen the floating home where Tom Hanks' character supposedly lived in the movie 'Sleepless in Seattle'. So this morning I brought my camera with me on the run and shot a bunch of photos. The morning running atmosphere was ideal-- cool, calm, and simply beautiful:

From Houseboat

As you can imagine, most docks around Lake Union are private with signs posted to discourage the general public from entering. Luckily it was very early in the morning and most people were asleep so nobody noticed or stopped me from entering. The 'Sleepless' house is at the end of a private dock:

From Houseboat

These 'floating homes' are very close to each other-- inches between houses. They are actually closer together than the houseboats at my marina. You can see the 'Sleepless' house here with its neighbor:

From Houseboat

And here is the house at sunrise this morning:

From Houseboat

Pictures from today

The sky has been really clear for the past two days so I carried my camera with me while I walked to work and took some more photos. You can get an idea of where the boat is from the Space Needle in the background:

From Houseboat

One of the neighboring houseboats has an outboard motor:

From Houseboat

It's the boat with the white wooden railings on the deck and red painted doors, and the building in the background is the noisy Chinese restaurant:

From Houseboat

From the marina parking lot you can see the leaves are changing color:

From Houseboat

This is the view of the houseboat from the dock at Zymogenetics. I could actually commute to work by kayak if I wanted:

From Houseboat

Sealeg effect

I've been noticing recently that I sway back and forth when I am on land. I'm not sure if anybody else notices it or if it is just my perception, but I feel like it's hard to walk in a straight line and that I am constantly rocking-- even when I am sitting still at my desk at work.

Starting yesterday afternoon, the water and the houseboat moved around a lot more than I remembered. Since then, I've been feeling especially wobbly on land. Today I saw myself rocking back and forth in the mirror in the ladies room at work.

So my question is, why do all of those pirates and sailors of lore drink so much? Living on a boat is like being perpetually tipsy only without the alcohol. I just imagine that this feeling gets worse with a few bottles of rum-- or maybe not-- maybe getting drunk counteracts the sealeg effect. I think I'll have to test that hypothesis before the month is out.

Cold morning

It's cold this morning. It says 41 degrees online and the thermometer at the marina is dead on 40 degrees. I woke up early this morning, but stayed in bed for a while because it was warmer under the covers. This place is heated by two small electric space heaters:

From Houseboat

From Houseboat

They do provide heat, but sometimes it just doesn't feel like enough (like this morning). You can even see the cold:

From Houseboat

From Houseboat

Those pictures were taken about an hour ago. Since then, the fog has completely moved in and it's sorta cool to watch it move along the water. I can barely see the buildings in the background now and I haven't seen a single seaplane take-off or land.

I grew up in Wisconsin and lived in Iowa for a while so I do know what *real* cold feels like. But staying in a houseboat is a little like being in a tent--you're more acutely aware of the weather around you because the walls aren't insulated like in a house. I'm very very very glad that I have a heated apartment on land for this upcoming (projected cold) winter.

Shuttling between real life and a Dilbert cartoon

There was a heavy rainstorm in the middle of the night last night and I loved it. I think it's a primal comfort to lay in a warm bed while the elements outside have their way. And because the houseboat walls aren't really insulated, it sounded like I was inside a tent. A bonus in my opinion.

When the rain stopped and I went outside this morning, the air was cold and smelled amazingly clean. It was hard not to feel happy with this amazingly beautiful weather. At work today, several co-workers commented on how beautiful it was outside.

In the midst of a gorgeous Seattle day, there were meetings with some representatives from the 'transition' team at Bristol Myers Squibb. They had scheduled two days for a representative from BMS to meet face-to-face with every single member of the Zymogenetics scientific staff. You could tell that a lot of people wore their nice shirts and slacks for the occasion. We cared enough to try to make a decent impression. However, in the end my face-to-face meeting with the BMS manager was less than 5 minutes long and consisted of him reading me the company script. It was devoid of any real content or warmth. Comparing notes, most of my co-workers had the same experience. The entire scenario was a lot like a Dilbert comic-- or a scene from the movie 'Up In the Air'.

Coming home tonight, I was greeted with brisk Autumn air and a starless dark sky. Now *this* feels real, and everything in those office walls is man-made.

It sure seems colder by the water

It's definitely Autumn in Seattle. The trees are changing color, the Canadian Geese have left, and it's getting brisk out.

Up until today, I have been opening at least one window after I get home. The temperatures haven't been too bad, and it's nice to have the fresh air in the small living quarters. However, the air was so chilly last night and this morning that I could see my breath in the morning. And I had gotten so used to the cold air that the workplace felt toasty today (and my office usually feels a little cool).

I assumed that the houseboat would be cold and damp in the Seattle winter. I've been told by other houseboaters that this isn't true. But I actually think they are just used to the cold and damp air. I actually think that it IS colder and damper on the water.

It's those Seattle micro-climes. I started my morning run before the sun came out this morning and the air was brisk but not that bad. As I headed to the north shore of the lake, the weather started to change and I could see a fog slowly rolling in. My hands started to get really cold and the air got really damp. As I headed back to the boat, the fog lifted as soon as I crossed a drawbridge and my hands warmed up quickly.

I really noticed the difference in temperature when I went into downtown (away from the water) earlier this evening. Just two miles away and it was at least 5 to 10 degrees warmer among the concrete towers than floating on the water.

I know it's just my opinion, but I do believe that it is colder here on the water. And you can quote me on that!

Readjusting

Last weekend I took a last minute trip down to California to visit family (and meet my extremely adorable newborn niece). I returned to the houseboat today and am finding that I have to reacclimate to the boat motion. The up and down rocking of the boat isn't as much fun after a day of plane, bus, and car travel. However, I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow morning after some sleep.

Another thing that I have to readjust to is marine plumbing.

I shut off the water supply before I left the boat for the weekend. The houseboat owner had specifically told me to do this (twice) before she went on her vacation. Turning off the houseboat water is like shutting off a hose on the outside of a house. In fact, the water supply to the boat looks like a garden hose except it is white in color instead of green or black. Turning it back on was as easy as turning the valve to the 'on' position.

I was also told by the owner that most houseboat water problems aren't from water leaking from the outside to the inside. Rather, houseboats can sink because of water accumulation inside of the boat. Something as simple as a dribbling faucet can cause problems because all of the waste water is stored in a tank on the boat, and a full tank can be very very heavy. Plus, an over-full septic tank is not something to come home to!

Unfortunately the on-boat bathrooms smell regardless of what I do. And as I've learned, it smells more if it hasn't been used in a couple of days. The smell is vaguely like the dirty-diaper corner of my brother's garage.

Probably the most unpleasant part of the marine septic system are the toilets themselves. I was told not to throw toilet paper into the toilet since too much volume can clog it. Let's just say that I made sure to use the toilets in the airport before I returned home to the houseboat. It's one part of houseboat life that I really don't like readjusting to.

Yes it moves

Yes, this houseboat moves and I can feel it. It mainly bobs up and down rather than moving side-to-side. It was sort of a weird sensation on the first day and I was wondering what it would be like to sleep with the constant movement.

I've found that the movement on the boat really isn't too bad. The one time that it bothers me is when I'm on land. Every now and then when I'm sitting on my chair at work or standing at the lab bench, I'll feel like I'm on the boat rocking up and down.

What's really interesting are the things that cause the boat to rock up and down. Not surprising, big moving boats create big enough waves to move the houseboat. Sometimes I find that walking across the floor causes the entire houseboat to rock. What did surprise me was that seaplanes in the air would move the houseboat more than seaplanes moving on the water.

This morning I woke up to light rain. I love watching and listening to rain falling. On the houseboat I can also FEEL the rain falling on the water. With the light rain it's actually sort of fun to rock up and down and watch the raindrops hit the water.

Just sitting here writing this the rocking motion is sort of lulling me back to sleep...

The end of Zymogenetics

The reason why I am on a houseboat right now is because at the beginning of last month Bristol Myers Squibb (BMS) announced that they were going to purchase Zymogenetics, the company that I worked for. I was in the middle of buying a house at the time. Not knowing what would happen to my job or if I might relocate, I withdrew my offer. This left me looking for housing.

The idea of a houseboat first came to mind when I looked on a Seattle apartment rental site and saw a link to several available houseboats. The idea clicked. The rental period coincides with the purchase and transition period at the company. I thought that I would embrace this change with a sense of adventure.

What I'm finding is that during this month of transition and instability, I am ungrounded in every way.

We got an all company e-mail this morning informing us that BMS now effectively owns Zymogenetics. The atmosphere at work leading up to this acquisition has been difficult. There has been daily speculation about what BMS plans to do to the Seattle site, what will happen to our jobs, what will happen to our projects, and just plain what will happen. Unfortunately, today's announcement did not provide any more information about their plans.

All I know is that Zymogenetics is no more and even the calming nature of on-water living isn't washing away the sorrow of another Seattle biotech company gone.

Life on Lake Union

Some seaplane photos from the houseboat:







Sunrise:



Early morning calm:






Zymogenetics on the dawn of its last day:

The marina at lunchtime

I got to do something today that I haven't done in at least 8 years-- instead of eating lunch with co-workers, I took a break from work and went 'home' for lunch. Home in this case was the houseboat.

The sun was shining and there was barely a cloud in the sky. When the weather is good in Seattle, it is really good. Today it was simply beautiful.

It was a great day to sit at the dining table eating my lunch and watch the world around me. There wasn't that much activity in the marina. I watched a neighbor pull her boat closer to the dock and re-tie it to the post, and a couple of seaplanes took off and landed. Mostly, I just watched the reflections and ripples on the water.

It was calming and fun to just sit there. Lunch ended way too soon.

It's all about the stuff

Why only a month? It's the most common question I've gotten about the houseboat.

On the practical side, it would be better for me to rent one place for a longer period of time instead of moving every month or two. However, I didn't feel right committing to a year-long lease because of the uncertainty of my work situation (more on that in a future post). Plus, I saw every single houseboat and floating home rental available on Lake Union. This houseboat was the only short term rental. The owners used the rent as a subsidy for their vacation to Greece. Regardless, one month is a good amount of time to embrace the houseboat living experience without committing to it over the upcoming predicted-cold winter. It is only October and the place is already chilly.

Most of the floating homes and houseboats that I saw came furnished and/or were too small to store more than one or two boxes worth of things. Everything that I own and moved from Los Angeles is currently in storage somewhere with the movers. It has been 3 months of living out of a suitcase. I'm a little tired of it. This experience has taught me that I get comfort from being surrounded by my stuff.

When I was moving up to Seattle, and all of my things were boxed up and contained in one moving truck, I realized how much stuff I have. One person should not own so much stuff and I thought that I could easily get rid of 75% of it and still be fine. Afterall, a large number of people in the world live with less than I currently have in my suitcases. But I have to admit that I don't want to live *that* minimally.

And that's one issue with houseboat living. It's living in a small space. This place is stuffed in every possible crevice with the owners' things. Some of it is ingenious-- like the in counter garbage can in the kitchenette. And some of it is odd-- there are linens stored under the cushions of the chairs and couches. In such small spaces there is a fine line between owning things and having a place that could be showcased on 'Hoarders'.

I think the real reason that I care about my stuff is that having it all in one place gives me a sense of home. My home is where I hang my hat... and store my books, and dishes, and artwork, and knick-knacks, and... souvenirs of life!

Day 4: Photos

It's easier to describe this place in photos, so here are some photos that I took on the first day before my clean-up efforts:

Houseboat #8

Dining/Living Area

Kitchenette

Second Level Bathroom

Bedroom

Hand-pump marine head

Access deck from bedroom window

View from the deck

Day 3: Settling in

The first floor of the boat got a thorough scrubbing down today. I scrubbed the floors, disinfected the bathroom, wiped the grime off the walls, doors, and cabinets, vacuumed the rugs, shook out the pillows, and removed heavy dust and grime off of pretty much every surface I could.

The woman who owns this houseboat is an interior designer so it looks cute with lots of color and knick-knacks. Unfortunately she is obviously not much of a housekeeper and all of her interiors and knick-knacks had gathered boatloads (literally) of grime and dust.

Plus it is spider season in Seattle and I've been waging a war with them all day. I left them on the outside, but banished them from the inside. Every now and then one of them would try to make a comeback, but I've been doing my best to keep them away.

The place now feels comfortable to me. It's funny how a good cleaning can do that.

The sun also came out in the afternoon and it felt like the air changed. People started pulling out their boats and more seaplanes have been taking off and landing.

I also checked out the Chinese restaurant that has been hosting those horribly loud banquets. Apparently they have swing and salsa dance nights on Thursdays and Sunday until 11:30 p.m. That leaves only Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights potentially music free. The worst of it all is that the food is overpriced mediocre Chinese food. I can't even justify the noise with good Chinese food.

Now I just need to scrub down the second floor and hose down the deck. Where's a good deckhand when you need one?

Day 2: Starting the adventure of houseboat living

As predicted, the horrible techno-music at the Chinese restaurant went until the wee hours of the morning. By 12:30 a.m. I couldn't stand it anymore and I went over to my landbased apartment and slept there.

This morning, after using the landbased toilet and shower, I went on a nice trail run in the woods and a brunch with some new running friends. I took my first shower on the houseboat afterwards and though it took a minute or two for the hot water to get going, it was otherwise a satisfying shower.

Now I'm sitting here on the first floor typing on the laptop and staring out the window. It's relatively peaceful here during the day, and I imagine it's relatively peaceful here in the evenings that the Chinese restaurant doesn't have banquets. The one main quirk I've noticed is that the boat rocks up and down every time a seaplane takes off or lands on the water.

My plans for the day are to move some more stuff over here and to clean the place a bit. Though the owner of this houseboat is an interior designer, she isn't much of a housekeeper. This place needs some elbow grease to clear the cobwebs and dust. I am an unabashed neat freak and the clutter and dirt are bugging me.

I currently see people kayaking and paddleboarding past the boats. Maybe, if I'm lucky, the sun will come out this afternoon and I can enjoy the view from the deck... then again this is Seattle. I can enjoy the view regardless of the weather.

Houseboat Living- Day 1

I moved to Seattle 2 1/2 months ago intending to settle here and live a simple, routine life. But life had its own plans, and I decided to turn the lemons into lemonade. Or if not lemonade, something a little less sour and a little more interesting.

Here I am on Day One of Houseboat Living. It's not a big place by any stretch of the imagination. There are two levels. The first level has the kitchenette, small living area, and a 3/4 bath. The second level, which I get to by a set of ladder-steps, contains a bedroom 'suite' consisting of full sized bed, clawfoot bathtub, sink, and toilet. The outdoor deck is also on the second level, and it is accessed through the bedroom window.

I've only been here a few hours. So far I've noticed that I actually can tell that the boat rocks a little, that there isn't a lot of privacy and people don't mind it, and that there are a lot of bugs.

At the same time, it's nice to just sit there and stare at the water. I have a great view of downtown, other boats, seaplanes, and the water. Who needs t.v. when you have scenery?

I'm only renting for a month and then I'm moving to a landbased apartment. I have the feeling that I'll be glad that I decided to do this by the end of the month. This isn't as restful a place as I'd like. Right at this moment, there is a party at the Chinese restaurant next to the marina and ridiculous techno-dance-pop music is blasting. I'm tired. Hopefully the party is over soon and I can get some sleep.