I’ve always dreamed of owning a boat. Nothing too fancy… just a little fancy. The idea of
floating above the water (where the
fish can’t nip my toes) has appealed to me for many years. Add a few summery drinks, a stellar stereo, a
white visor and the smell of coconut sunscreen and I’d consider it the love
boat.
Mike brought home a boat this week.
He knows I’ve always wanted one.
And just like that, you could say my boat dream has been
altered. I'll be the first to admit, the original
dream just isn’t us.
Our new dream involves floating on a 12-foot motor boat, a cooler of beer, listening to Kenny Chesney, all while being engulfed in a haze of
Deet. If we get hungry, I’m confident we
could snag a few frogs with Mike’s pistol and cook ‘em up on the shore for
dinner.
Funny how quickly dreams can change.
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