Husband may well murder me
when he gets back from being out-to-sea, but I just had to do it. I couldn’t
stand that wobble or the squeak for one more bleedin’ moment. And woo-hoo, boy,
the change looks and feels fantastic. Yup, I removed the bench seat on my side
of the table in the Airstream. Yup, I did that.
Maybe you should know
something about the background so that you can join me in celebrating my epic
success. First, I work here. I work from that very spot for countless hours
every day, whether we are in our usual spot in Poulsbo, or boondocking
elsewhere. Hours and hours and hours every day. And being a normal human
person, I occasionally move or shift or stretch. About six months ago, each
time I in any way altered my position, I started to hear a squeak. I couldn’t
figure out exactly where it was coming from and it was driving me batty [hubs
would interject here: “you can’t drive anywhere that you already are” which is
what he says every time I mention
that something is making me crazy or insane or bonkers]. I tried everything
from tightening the screws, to stuffing cotton balls down the crack between the
bench and the wall, to attaching a strip of loop (from some extra hook-and-loop
I had—aka velcro). Sometimes I would get a few days of relief, but then there
it was again, the dreaded squeak.
Such utter aggravation.