Many Boats

"Don't make me buy another boat, Eleanor," was the best thing Richard could say to keep his wife from coercing him into buying another boat. Like any good husband whose wife had nautical aspirations such as Eleanor's, he had been complacent in the past, letting his wife push him into buying more boats.

They already had eight boats. Now she wanted nine.

Eleanor's obsession began soon after they were married. They had their honeymoon in Italy, which included a ride on a cruise ship along the coastline. Lost in the romance, she bellowed from the gut of her mind, "Richard, let's get a boat!"

Three years later, upon the purchase of the fifth boat, Richard falsely believed that Eleanor's preoccupation with sea vessels would dwindle. He rationalized that growing up in the landlocked state of Colorado, Eleanor had a childhood devoid of rides on boats, dinghies, schooners, and motorboats -- she was just making up for lost sea time. Now that she lived near a marina, she was going through a phase. Surely five boats under her belt would be enough for his darling wife, right?

But she just kept going. While lobbying for the sixth boat, she told Richard that she had "a really good name for it," and "Oh, please can we?". They bought the sixth boat. She named it Gondolina.

The seventh boat was her thirtieth birthday present. Richard didn't ask her what she wanted, but she kept dropping hints like: "I can't believe I'm almost thirty years old and I only have six boats," or "Isn't seven a great number?"

Richard bought the eighth boat on his own without being prompted. Purchasing a boat had become as banal as paying the electric bill, and he didn't realize what he'd done until it was too late. He cringed at his mistake, but Eleanor was thrilled.

This whole business about Eleanor wanting a ninth boat, according to Richard, bordered on the insane. If he had known she was going to keep pushing for more boats after they married, he probably wouldn't have bought that house near the water. There was, after all, that lovely home in the mountains that was an hour and a half away from the coast. She may love her boats, he thought, but boy, oh boy, does she hate commuting.

But could he really dote on this issue? Was it worth his time to nit-pick? Was it really so bad to be known around town as 'Richard and Eleanor with the boats'? Sure, it packed a wallop on his bank account, but she'd always been such a sweet girl, and doesn't she deserve a good new boat every few months?

"Twelve boats," he thought to himself. "If she tries for any more than twelve boats, she can just forget it. That's where I'll draw the line."

Richard picked up a salt shaker from the kitchen counter. He examined it.

"Twelve boats. Twelve."