A couple of hours after I posted about my retreat in the Mothership, I heard a loud bang, followed by the sound of running water. What the–? At first I thought it was something outside. Then I saw the water pouring out from under the kitchen sink counter, spreading across the floor…
I ran outside to shut the water off, and then started pulling things apart. Drawers full of dishes, full of water, too. What a mess. All I could tell for sure was that the water had come from under the kitchen faucet. I spent about two hours mopping it all up. Finally, about midnight, I sat down with a heavy sigh to figure out what to do next. Sproingggg! The window shade beside me abruptly unrolled all the way to its end. Is this a sign?
Next morning, I established that both water pipes to the kitchen faucet had popped loose as one and started pouring water into the space inside the cabinet. Some disassembly later, I found that the plastic connectors on the underside of the faucet had cracked and let go. With no separate shut-off valves to the sink, I was sunk. My water system was kacked until I could get a replacement faucet. A few phone calls later, I knew there were none to be had on the Cape. A few hours later, I packed it in and headed home.
But not without a final bike ride to the beach and some time contemplating the surf rolling in. Bright side: While sitting there, I found (I hope) the solution to the plot problem that had been eluding me, and I wrote a couple of pages on that before I broke camp for home.
Here’s a glimpse of the better side of the retreat…
I am on Cape Cod in the Mothership, on my first writing retreat of the year. I’m just going to be here a couple of days, because of other things I need to be home for. But it’s a start. Last night, the rains came. It started literally as I was arriving and getting set up at the campsite. Then it rained, and rained, and rained, right through the night. I got up this morning feeling pretty dank. Still, it felt good to be here. By the time I had a late breakfast ready, the sun was out, and I sat by the open door, taking it in. One thing I discovered is that it is quite challenging to do my morning exercises inside the Mothership; it was too wet to do them outside. Not quite enough room to swing and stretch and get down to do pushups. I came close to giving up, but in the end, I managed, with only a couple of scrapes and bangs on the head marking the limits of available space.
On another topic, I have sailed forth in the Mothership on a three-day mission to challenge writer’s block on its own turf. No, its turf isn’t here on the edge of Cape Cod; it’s in my head. But here I’m hoping for a more level playing field. No more worrying about tax returns, troublesome batteries in the cars, or any of that. Just me and creative difficulties, mano a mano. We’re going to start with “productive conversations” at the writing desk and see how that goes. If it comes to blows… well, let’s just hope it doesn’t.
