Friday, June 20, 2008

Sick Of It All.

Content Warning: some readers may find the following text objectionable, unnecessarily downbeat- or just plain pathetic.



Enough already, I should be excited, see, I should be over the flippin’ moon; Finally, only a few weeks behind schedule (of course), the exterior of our boat is booked to be blasted and painted starting next Tuesday. It’s undoubtedly a milestone. Trouble is that far from the excitement and anticipation that I always imagined would surround this moment, my mind, body and soul have revolted and chosen to do the opposite, and I’ve suddenly developed a weird but powerful aversion to my own boat.

This state of emotional wreckage probably has much to do with the shape of the last few weeks. I’ve mostly been welding, with my usual varying degrees of aptitude. All those “little jobs” (which I remember saying I could handle) seem to have taken me forever. It should be bloody obvious by now that this is practically the definition of ‘little jobs’ but still I don’t seem to learn. I’ve been driving down to Southampton during the week, at the weekends, whenever I can find a chance, to attack these, and I’ve become more and more tired, aching, lonely, dirty and demoralised. Now I am staggering on toward some sort of imagined finish line- I’m on deck based stuff, and each task seems to take me longer and yield less and less joy as the days go by. And all the time my head tries to play tricks on me, whispering along the lines of “why bother? It’ll never be finished” and “who do you think are you trying to fool, you’re a rubbish welder anyway” and “gooooo to the puuuuub nooow”.

Anyway, guess what I’ve got planned this weekend?? You got it, more of the above, including yet another lonely stinking Saturday night, because it’s practically the last chance for getting these stupid bastard little jobs done before I go into meltdown, and because try as I might I don’t seem to be able to actually say ‘to hell with it’ and forget about the stupid poxy boat that completely ruined my life with any lasting conviction.



I think I probably qualify as completely burnt out.

2 Comments:

Anonymous stevep said...

you're probably beyond cheering up, but I thought I'd just say I've been checking out your blog, and as a fellow rusty tug owner, I'm very impressed with the thoroughness and dedication you've approached the (let's face it, enormous) project with. I've had my (smaller) tug 10 years, spent the first 18 months as a liveaboard, and the next 7.5 years fiddling with the really important bits (...that wobbly cupboard handle/squeaky floor/bent light fitting, rather than accept I have to begin replacing the engine,) whilst trying to work out (for myself, and also so I can explain to the missus) what I can possibly use it for and why I can't bring myself to sell it. At least, with your as-new hull, you won't be having my dreams of rusty blisters rupturing in the night, sinking my beautiful money pit. Which has, sometimes, seemed at least an end to it all, if a sad one. But a few months ago I had yet another bout of enthusiasm, and had the bottom patched up, painted, and craned in a new engine to replace the broken one. I'm currently in the middle of bolting and plumbing it in. And my enthusiasm hasn't yet waned, so I might actually see it through this time. I even painted the superstructure in the recent hot weather, which cheered me up no end. Anyway, I'm rambling. I'm sure this won't be the last damp trough of depression you fall into, if only because you've bitten off such a big mouthful (dodgy mixed metaphors there.) But you will get there, and you'll have done it better than most. And once you're there, you'll have several years' worth of Saturday nights to catch up on. So look forward to that, at least. Oh, and try to take a holiday...

6:12 pm  
Blogger steve said...

I agree. You've chosen the absolute toughest way to convert a liveaboard, emotionally, as after several years of backbreaking, filthy, difficult work you still don't have a boat that's in the water, liveable in, or even painted, soit's hard to see what all the hard work has been for.
BUT!
It seems, from what you say, that you're at the VERY end of this demoralising stage, and if you can just keep th faith for a little while longer then you'll have a beautiful boat, sitting in the water, with an as-new, last-for-years-and-years, spanking new welded and painted hull, that you can get on with the fun stuff of actually making her liveable in. I think it's REALLY exciting.
PLUS!
You can weld! You have a huge host of skills that you didn't have before, plus you've effectively built your own house! Even doing the piddly little jobs that we have been doing on Peter has made us feel so much more capable, and able to tackle things as they come along, then we lived in a house. You guys have tackled a phenomenal amount of stuff and come through it successfully.

Go team Wendy Ann!

10:04 am  

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