dozen hand-knitted cotton dishcloths and half a green Aran toque. It was an experiment,” I added. “Throw that stuff out,” John


pleaded.


“Heavens no, darling,” I said. “A year’s supply of sock yarn,


hat patterns, silver buttons I cut off an old coat, Photostats of traditional Laplander designs I got at the library and about a pound and a half of pure wool with sticks in it I scored at the Wal-Mart.” “Stop! Stop!” John begged. “I can’t stand any more!” “Relax, darling,” I said. “We’re


getting to the next layer. Four life jackets, Red Dwarf videos – six of them – a hand-held watermaker we’ve never used and our household files – I bet we have five years’ worth here. I wonder where the iron is?” “You’ll never find it in there. Give up and buy a new one,” John advised. “I’m only halfway through the


pile,” I said. “Two Berlitz French courses on


cassette tape, our winter gloves, a tobacco tin full of socks and a handful of plastic ties. Duct tape – two rolls, three decorative tins to put Christmas fudge in next December and a three- hole punch.” “Are you done yet?” John asked. “No, darling. A book on knots,


some computer disks and four novels. Well, here it is!” I held the iron aloft and waggled


it at John. “With an extension cord attached, no less.” I put everything back into the


lockers and placed a folded towel on the main saloon table. I had to crawl under the saloon table to plug the iron in, and nearly knocked over the candelabra on the table with the extension cord. John grumbled I was blocking the TV, but I finished ironing the blouse and hung it on a plastic hanger from a porthole knob. After I folded the jumper, I placed it carefully in the middle of the port settee berth. “It’s in the way,” said John. “Well yes, but when it rains it


doesn’t drip on that part of the berth,” I said. “If it rains before morning my wardrobe will be safe. A clever bureaucrat thinks ahead. Now I shall plan tomorrow’s makeup.” “Makeup!” John gasped. “It hasn’t


touched your face for years!” I stuffed the iron on top of the three-


hold punch behind the household files, pulled the towel through a brass ring hanging on the wall of the head and pulled a small plastic pouch out from under a pile of damp facecloths and a bar of Ivory soap. “Hmmm,” I said. “Eyeshadow,


slightly damp, eyeliner, drama queen black, lipliner, one shade lines all, and two lipsticks. John, which color of lipstick should I wear?” I asked aloud. “What are they called?” John asked


from the main saloon. “’Vestal Virgin Beige and Arrested at Midnight Crimson,” I answered. “I’d go with Vestal Virgin, if I were you,” said John.


“Good decision, darling,” I said. I turned the hot-water faucet handle


on full. A stream of numbing-cold water splashed into the sink and I took a deep breath and plunged my head under the tap. The hot water tank was 20 feet from the head, and only a fool wastes tank water on a boat. Besides, the water would be hot by the first rinse and I could look forward to my scalp thawing then. When I finished, I turned


the hand-held shower head on myself, sudsed everything from the forehead down with Ivory soap, scrubbed with a back brush and rinsed recklessly. Steam coated the mirror as thick as fur. I turned the water off. The cold air of the head struck me like a club, but I wasn’t done. Working quickly, so as to not die of hypothermia, I mopped up the now- lukewarm water slopping around my feet that hadn’t made it down the drain with a rag and squeezed it into the sink. I ran a comb through my hair, flung on a terry robe and traipsed into the main saloon, exuding executive confidence. “Done, darling,” I said. “When the


glue dries, I’ll practice with the high heels. I’m ready for anything now.” Lucky thing I was. When they fired


me for incompetence, the only thing they didn’t complain about was my personal hygiene. I take great comfort in that. To read more of Catherine Dook’s work


and buy her books: “Darling Call the Coast Guard We’re on Fire Again!” and “Damn the Torpedoes! ”visit bcbooks.ca or phone 1 800 665 3302. “Offshore” ($18.95 CAD) is available at Oberonpress.ca


Mary d’Arcy ready for fall aboard Schooner Martha


10% off Sale


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Schaefer Furlers sale ends October 30th


48° NORTH, OCTOBER 2010 PAGE 37


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