Ahoy, guest!

Welcome aboard. First off, thank you for choosing to spend your vacation on my houseboat. You could’ve stayed almost anywhere in Boston, so I’m delighted you chose my damp, buoyant home.

You’re going to love winter on the water.

I’m sorry I can’t be there to greet you. I’m currently driving across the country to see if the moon looks as threatening from the west coast. I have my suspicions, but I want to see for myself.

Anyhow, I’m happy you’re here and reading this note I left for you. It feels good to have an audience, however brief.

Now that you’re on board, there are a couple things I should point out, some you’ve probably noticed already. The smell is totally normal. Nothing’s leaking. A lot of boats smell like this. It might have something to do with the combination of water and wood. Or, it could be all the eggs I’ve been eating lately. I’m trying to increase my cholesterol for reasons I won’t get into here.

Either way, it’s nothing to worry about. The smell barely hangs on to your clothes. But, if you don’t want to take my word for it, you can always splash some gas on your shirt. It’s mostly harmless if you only use a little. There’s a canister in the cabinet above the hot plate.

Fires almost never happen, but if you are caught in a freak, unpreventable blaze, there’s a bucket tied to the patio/stern. That bucket also doubles as the sink/bathroom. I know what you’re thinking but don’t worry, you can tell the water is clean by how cold it is.

You may notice a good deal of creaking at night. That creaking can sometimes turn into a loud crunch, like the sound of a drunk eating pistachio shells way past your bedtime. That’s fine. It’s not Dad, this time. It’s just termites. They usually quiet down once they’re full. If water starts to pool you can use that bucket I mentioned earlier.

Speaking of the night, I should warn you that I’ve been having some trouble with local teens lately. They come in the middle of the night and take turns seeing who can get my boat the closest to capsizing. They’re all pretty thorough, so you’ll want to know where the flare gun is.

Last time I saw it, it was behind the TV, or it could be on the nightstand under the rag I scream my night terrors into. If you can’t find it, you can use the back up one I keep under my pillow. That one’s loaded.

Once the teens attack, run out either yelling or crying. Both seem to work equally. Don’t be a dick and point the gun’s barrel at them or anything, that would be insane and dangerous. You only want them to think you’re crazy and capable of anything. They typically run away laughing after a couple of hours. It’s all harmless fun anyway.

One time they did throw a rock, though. It hit me in the head, but barely drew any blood. I yelled, “Hey, what the fuck?” And they were like “Oh sorry, man.” So I was all, “You could’ve really hurt me. What if I fell into the water?” And they went, “We didn’t think about that, man. We weren’t considering the what-if’s. We got caught up in the moment.” And so I go, “Well, actions have consequences. You gotta think about how what you do affects other people.” And then it was sort of quiet, so I asked them if they wanted to come on board and have some egg salad. They weren’t interested so I said, “Fine. More for me.” And then they all sort of slumped away and I went back inside and remembered I didn’t have any egg salad. I mean, I had eggs, I just didn’t have it all ready to go, so those teens would have had to sit around and watch me make it, and I hate having an audience while I’m cooking. So, I guess you could say we all had close calls that night.

You shouldn’t have much trouble, though. No other guest has complained, other than the guy who tried to hang himself. Nothing in here could hold his weight. He was totally fine and absolutely devastated.

The Wifi network is APPLBTTMJEANS.
The password is: bootsw/thefurs.

If you have any questions, feel free to leave me a note on the other side of this life jacket and I’ll try to get back to you when I can.

Bon voyage, new friend!