Day Eleven in Fort Pierce, aka Skid Rowmanson
For want of materials, the day was lost
Enough of this. Not enough of that. The need for a few (six) small canisters of brownish powder (barrier coat additive) could not be had at the Fort Pierce or Vero Beach West Marine stores, nor “The Boathouse” store in Vero Beach. The woman at the boatyard has been hassling us since we’re supposed to be buying all of our materials from them, at a 20% markup. I wish I was making that up, but it’s painfully true.
Woman: You know, you’re supposed to be buying all of your materials from us.
Aaron: Well, we had most of this stuff on the boat already.
Woman: It doesn’t matter.
Aaron: Ok, from now on we’ll buy from you. (bald-faced lie)
Woman: Are you the owners of this boat?
Aaron: Yes.
Look of disgust and exeunt Woman.
Nothing’s changed. We won’t buy the stuff from them, especially since we’re already being regularly sodomized by West Marine. Unfortunately, this additive is unavailable anywhere near us, so we have no other recourse. Tomorrow the barrier coat will be completed, even if it kills/bankrupts us.
It was the usual story after we put on 2.25 coats. We ran out of stuff. We went to the beach. The library. Walmart. But then, we veered into decadence, splurging for a pizza instead of our usual tin can meal. We ate at the pier, watching the sun set over an oil tanker, four baby boomers drinking beer in lawn chairs, and an isthmus. Reading and bed.