Wednesday, January 17, 2007


In mid October, Ken, our landlord, hollered out to Greig one day to "Get ready as there's a floathouse coming in and I think you'll be interested in it Greig!"

"Oh great," I thought to myself, "Yet another wreck to sink all of my blood, sweat and tears in. Are we not working like, stupid already enough for you honey?" I asked.

It had been a really crazy, crazy year. I don't blog
about all the stuff that really happens here, I think mostly because my mother would totally freak out and a freaked out Mum is the last thing I need to add to my daily "top ten" list of things to contend with. I suppose I should though as I couldn't dream up this stuff even if I tried. It would make for more way more interesting reading, horrified Mother notwithstanding.

But I digress.

When we first moved onto the Bowie in June of 2003 there was a room behind the wheelhouse which we turned into our bedroom. There was but only three foot holds to hoist oneself up and down. I felt it was a bit unsafe to be expected to stumble out of bed, multiple times in the night due to the walnut-size volume of my bladder, half asleep and performing calisthenics just to water-my-lily twice in the night.

Really, how conscious are most of us when we stumble out of bed to the bathroom at night? We're a bit like automatons as we feel our way in the dark, unlikely there are many obstructions in our way. In life BG, (before Greig) I wouldn't need to even turn on the lights. To have to use toe holds to Ninja one's way down the hatch to the biffy below and then to use those same toe holds to get back up to bed was the limit. By the time I got my back in bed I my blood would be boiling.

At the time Greig though I was being completely unreasonable and that I was acting like a total princess. To his good health he took a less used ladder from another hatch and put it in the hatch leading up to our room. The steel steps were meant for an external application and you couldn't go down them in bare feet, but by that point I didn't care if I had to put on slippers to relieve my bladder.

So in October, when the carrot of another boat was being waved in Greig's face, I was a bit gun-shy about it all. The biggest appeal to me was that it had an ensuite toilet right beside the bed upstairs. Wa-hoo.

The sucker saw me coming I swear! It moved in beside us and the owner was looking to sell it or rent it and so with the help of my parents, I secured financing to get it. It has been neglected and needs lots of work. I have to replace the roof and put in a new woodstove when I have enough money to do so. Maybe August...

In the end, given the real estate market that is stupid here in this city I felt that a leaky house boat was better than a leaky overpriced condo (sans strata councils). I think 300k can get you 500 sq feet in a concrete box downtown that looks out at another concrete box. Given my view of the other morning which would you choose? Ultimately, it was just so damn cute.

To view before pictures go to

1 comment:

rob said...

Definitely the partnership everytime! so much potential! :o)) whats next, after the sail boat that is? :o))