While I was making my peanut butter and jelly crackers this morning, I decided I’m probably not going to own a yacht.
I’ve never had any specific dreams about yacht ownership, save the occasional picture of Jackie Kennedy Onassis with the scarf on her hair. I like wind, and maybe I would put my hair up in a scarf and wear a striped sweatshirt, but I’m not crazy about the sun.
It’s not the yacht so much as what the yacht represents. White pants, I always spill things on white pants. Is that a requirement for the yacht? Maybe that’s why while I was carefully placing my jelly between the peanut butter waves I had this epiphany.
Aside from the obvious initial cost of owning a massive boat, I’m not sure I’d want to deal with the maintenance. Sure, I could have a crew to take care of that for me, but what about the sunglasses?
Big, dark and round, I would have to wear sunglasses because people would expect that when they see me board my yacht. And the sun, that damn sun everywhere, I’d need sunglasses.
I hate sunglasses. I don’t like having anything on my face. I’m a full face to the world sort of person, and I don’t think that will work with the yacht.
Also, how big does this crew have to be? I’m not exactly a people person, and I’ve served my time in human resources. They’ll want benefits, I’m guessing, and time off. Lord, what if two of them don’t get along, or worse sleep together and then break-up? See, these are the things I think about when considering my yacht.
Maybe I’m being a Negative Nelly. Everyone wants a yacht, don’t they? To be super rich, wearing all white, and hiding behind super-chic sunglasses. People want a staff, someone to pour their drink, wash their pants, and fluff their pillows.
That’s the American Dream, isn’t it?
I like scallops and oysters. Those pants that fishermen wear are hot. And I like blue water, sort of.
That’s not enough. That must be why I figured no yacht this morning.
Maybe an island. I could still wear my jeans on an island. Is there mud on an island? I like dirt. Besides, Jack would never agree to a diamond-studded collar, but he loves to swim so an island might work.
A little boat could be an option too if I still want to put my hair in a scarf. Crackers go with a small boat.
Everything in our culture says, “go big or go home.” I’ll most likely continue choosing to go home, but you never know. I could wake up tomorrow and be all Pitbull-get-me-a-yacht. Life is fun that way.
The bikini. Oh Lord, I forgot about the bikini if I choose yacht life. Maybe I should lay off the peanut butter, just in case.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Cool Sheets.