After a long week working, you have to love a day that conspires with you like a single girlfriend at a party full of good looking available men. You wake up from a perfect nine hour sleep, sunlight beaming in through the hatch. Luxuriating in crisp and mostly clean cotton sheets as you roll back and forth, knowing you don't have to get up for any reason except to pee. After the business that cannot be denied any longer is taken care of, you sit in the cockpit, smoke a cigarette while the dogs lay flat out enjoying the heat. You flip through a Conde Nast magazine you found in the bathroom, reading about St. Lucia. On a day so full of promise, you promise yourself a visit there, whenever. And when it's time for a coffee, the best one you've had all week, you blare Luba's "Let it Go" on the speakers, dancing in the cabin by yourself. You don't really care about the family that just walked by and saw you dancing. Most of the dock already thinks you're an eccentric/hermit/lesbian/pothead/weirdo. Not that there's anything wrong with that... You spill said coffee all over your leg, but who cares, cause it's time to change into your swimsuit and head over to the island where anything goes...
