It’s almost impossible to be in the throes of getting ready to go cruising.

Speaking as one solidly in this world, I can tell you it’s torture. And for the most part, I can talk to people about my plans. Work knows. (I’m a teacher and have been very clear that this is my last year. The students don’t believe I’m going - it’s way too far out of their reality zone - and honestly I’m not sure many of my colleagues do either. That’s a totally different story.) I’ve got a great online community I can share details with, and a couple of very close friends who totally understand. Obviously my spouse is one I can share confidences and worries, excitements and dreams with!

There are a lot of people who are plotting and planning, though, who can’t tell a soul (other than a spouse or partner, I hope).

They can’t tell work, because work would find a way to let them go immediately. That income? It’s part of the money equation, and losing it early would kill the plan.

They can’t tell friends, because friends are work. Or school. Or word would get back to work. Or friends would stare blankly and change the subject, because a plan to sail off into the sunset that’s more than a pipe dream along the lines of “how will I spend the money when I win the Powerball?” Insanity.

Imagine for a second having the world’s best and biggest secret. A secret that gets bigger and better when you get a chance to share it. Only you can’t share.

Torture.

Besides the telling people, there’s the focus part. Keeping an eye on the current life (which is critical, really, to keep the wheels turning) all the while wanting to break into song and dance about what’s coming SO SOON YOU CAN TASTE IT BUT . . . And what about all those projects to do on the boat or off the boat or on the equipment or ordering things or deciding on layout or writing software to make the AIS work with the VHF or making endless lists of things to take aboard HOW CAN YOU DO THOSE WHEN YOU NEED TO MAKE DINNER TONIGHT?

It’s enough to make me crazy.

The life of the “soon to be cruiser” is filled with all the projects and lists and excitement and worry that you might imagine. It’s also filled with all the projects and lists and worry and UGH BOTHER of regular, daily land life.

It’s catching myself staring at the books in my bookshelf and obsessively pulling them all off and into 3 piles (throw out, book sale, and on board). It’s being aware that I really only use about 3 of my pots and pans and why would I EVER take more than that on board? It’s wondering if this is the last time I’m going to buy that container of shampoo for the house.

It’s Jeremy testing all the epoxy resin and hardener, in carefully marked combinations, to see what’s still viable, all while walking through a garage filled with we-need-to-get-rid-of-it crap like a ton of old picture frames, old wood, and a piece left over from the granite kitchen counters that went in 12 years ago.

Walter Mitty saw himself as a superhero in mundane daily interactions.

An about-to-be-cruiser? We’re straddling 2 worlds, trying to play superhero in both.

If you’re in need of someone to share your secret, drop me a line. I’ll listen, cheer, and be there for you.

And I’ll keep the secret too.