We arrived back in Georgetown, SC a bit worn out from the road. I had made three phone calls to the realtor in the previous week and hadn’t heard anything back so I was a bit frustrated about where we would be staying. The last message he left referenced the first two week in January so I was concerned the whole deal would not go through. We got back on the boat and it was cold and smelled like oil and engine. The electricity wasn’t working for some reason which meant there was no lights, water or stove (although the stove runs on propane, the solenoid runs on electric). There were also more leaks and Joshua’s berth cushion was soaked. I confess to having a bit of a meltdown. I don’t remember the exact words I used in my little fit but the word ‘stupid’ came up a lot (e.g., stupid boat, stupid trip, stupid idea), probably combined with some more colorful language. I ended by saying (probably yelling) that I just wanted to be somewhere comfortable for a few days. I knew I was being pathetic and irrational but couldn’t quite stop myself. Thankfully, the boys were still playing outside. A few years ago, I remember telling Matt that I have yet to feel like a ‘true’ grown-up (i.e., competent, capable, mature, etc.). I kept waiting for the bank and the state to show up at our door and revoke our mortgage and parenting privileges because they, too, realized we were just not qualified to have either a house or children (well, at least we no longer have a house). Matt, to his credit, was able to witness my complete meltdown and still be supportive. He just shook his head and said, “It will be ok. Let’s get a hotel and then we’ll get dinner and it will be ok.” And then, after we left the restaurant, I had a voicemail from the realtor saying someone had just left today and that Monday should work. Why is it that just when I lose faith and have a breakdown things start to work out? I can almost hear the Universe shaking its head and muttering, “Ye of little faith… if you had just held it together for a few more hours…”