Death Will Extend Your Vacation
“Okay, I do know. Cindy asked me. She found a fourteen-foot plywood and Fiberglas rowboat half buried in the weeds behind the house and drafted me to help her drag it out to where we could contemplate it. Contemplation turned to cleaning a lot quicker than I wanted.
“How do you know this thing is seaworthy?” I rubbed at a persistent mass of crud on the hull with a Brillo pad soaked in ammonia. I might end up asphyxiated, but I wouldn’t faint.
“I don’t.” Cindy grinned at me. She sat cross...legged in the only patch of shade in the vicinity, sanding an oar. Today her sweatshirt said, “Dolphins do it with a smile.” “I don’t see any obvious cracks, do you?”
“I wouldn’t know what to look for. All I see is encrusted schmutz. Dirt. A Barbara word,” I explained.
“The three of you seem pretty tight,” she remarked. “Don’t you have a girlfriend of your own?”
“Not since I got sober.MoreLess
“How do you know this thing is seaworthy?” I rubbed at a persistent mass of crud on the hull with a Brillo pad soaked in ammonia. I might end up asphyxiated, but I wouldn’t faint.
“I don’t.” Cindy grinned at me. She sat cross...legged in the only patch of shade in the vicinity, sanding an oar. Today her sweatshirt said, “Dolphins do it with a smile.” “I don’t see any obvious cracks, do you?”
“I wouldn’t know what to look for. All I see is encrusted schmutz. Dirt. A Barbara word,” I explained.
“The three of you seem pretty tight,” she remarked. “Don’t you have a girlfriend of your own?”
“Not since I got sober.MoreLess
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