OddGodfrey: The Oddly Compelling Story of a Sailing Circumnavigation of the World

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Where the Hell Are You Guys? By Sonrisa

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Where The Hell Are You Guys? By, Sonrisa

Dear Family,

Where the hell are you guys?  When you left, you told me you’d be back in six weeks.  It’s been a full two months now and you still aren’t back.  You’ve left me here with Grin.  

Grin fell asleep for a total of four days.  Four!  Out of sixty!  Just as I start to settle into my own nap, I hear “Sonrisa, pssst!  Sonrisa!  Are you asleep?”

“Well, I was trying…”  

He ignores this.  “I can’t sleep!”  

“You haven’t even tried, yet.”

“Yes, I have.  I’ve tried for three days.” 

“No, you’ve successfully slept for three days.”  

“Humph.”  He says.

After this, he’s been squirming around on deck incessantly, and because you tied him down, he wakes me up with each yank.  Sometimes he wants to see that bird, sometimes he can’t get comfortable because there is a rock under his bow. Sometimes, he is waving and yelling “YOOOOHOOOO!” to some passing dinghy.  

I need you to come back, now.

And then, there is the mooring ball.  All mooring balls have their irritating tendencies, but this one seems designed to drive me batty.  The current and the wind interact such that I blow one way, but drift the other, thus leaving me to snuggle my hull right up next to this hard plastic mooring ball.   Every day, all day, every night, all night “tap…tap…tap..tapp..ppp.ppp”  The vibrations of the ball hitting me move through my hull and make my teeth clatter.  I hate it.  I can feel my bottom paint chipping off at the water line.  I try to scoot this way and that, but it’s no use.  The ball follows me everywhere I go.  Leslie, I know you would say "name the ball and you will feel better!" but I'm not going to name it.  I refuse.  I won't do it.

Our local friend charged with my care opened my hatches once, but only once.  I think he closed them tight again, but I’m not sure.  I keep trying to look or feel, but it’s like when you have an itch on the center of your back between your shoulder blades: is there a bug there or is it just your imagination?  I do know it’s hot and stuffy down there.  You are going to have to air me out considerably, I think.  Maybe you should pick up one of those frilly, flower covered air freshener bottles for lady stink on your way home, that would probably be good.  Do they sell those in Mataram?  

And a bug bomb.  I’m worrying about Pandar the Roach Network.  I’m afraid they are multiplying and filling my bilge with a living black slime that moves and skitters about like iron shards dancing around a magnet.  I don’t know for sure, but these are the things I am worrying about.  

Please come home, now.

Love, Sonrisa