Last Saturday morning, I rounded up some helpers, and put the engine in the boat. I was running the crane, unable to really see what was going on, but everything came together well enough, with only minor cockpit damage.

Saturday afternoon, I hitched a ride over to Norman Island to spend the rest of the weekend with friends on their boat. It was a nice time, with much-needed socializing, and a great hike along the ridge of the island. All the while, however, I was consumed with guilt over not being back at the yard, either working on my boat, or working for money. Besides the deep and dreadful amount of cynicism I’m exuding lately, now on top of it comes this wacky belated guilty work-ethic.

So… there I am, surrounded by some of the best friends I’ve met here, and loathing it, loathing myself, completely unable to really relax. I’m poor company when I’m this pensive, I know…

At any rate, Monday morning saw me headed back into the harbour, and by that evening I’d scored a victory in Round One of The Battle with my Engine Mounts.
Anyways, the engine is in, and bit by bit (read: stolen moment by stolen moment in between “real” work) I’m getting the engine coarsely aligned. Of course, along with any sense of progress must come an equal and opposite disaster; this IS the islands, after all: my engine heat exchanger has been discovered to be blown out, necessitating an expensive replacement (50% of what I paid for the whole engine in the first place)…

Overall, I feel like I’m making real significant daily forward progress… but at what cost to my soul?