Last night I woke up in a bit of a panic at the sound of the rain pouring down. My heart jumped, my pulse quickened, and my eyes shot open. I listened for possible leaks and scanned my memory for any spots on the boat that may require towels or containers to catch said leaks. In my sleepy haze it took me a few minutes to realize that we are in our hometel, on land, where rain should not be seeping in through random spots. I had to calm myself from the rush of adrenaline that I get from the habit of years of running around the boat in the middle of the night closing all the hatches at the sound of a downpour. 

   Even after a few minutes of laying in our bed listening to the sound of the rain I could not fall back asleep, feeling that I was forgetting a window or had left something outside that could possibly be getting soaked and ruined. It made me giggle, under my breath so as to not wake Eben and have him think that I am completely crazy, laughing to myself in the middle of the night. I do find it comical the little habits that have stuck, that became so ingrained in our natural way of living over the past few years, on our boat, that even now that we are temporary landlubbers I feel uneasy with not following through with these customary acts. It was just normal that when you feel a raindrop on your face in the middle of the night, the mad dash began so you could save your boat and things before it really started to pour.

   Now I need to readjust. I need to come to terms with the fact that I can simply lay there, in my kingsize bed, listening to the torrential rains, and not worry about anything. Or better yet, I need to train my brain that it does not need to wake me, and keep me awake, in the middle of the night for such silliness.

   Watch though, if/when we move back on to the boat I will have trained my brain so well that the rain will no longer wake me, even if it is pouring down through the hatch over our bed, and Eben will be alone at the sport of closing hatches.