When you're dead and haven't even noticed

For weeks now, I’ve been plagued by the thought that I’m no longer alive. One night—I don’t remember the exact date—I fell asleep and never woke up. Since then, crazy things have been happening. Gas prices are skyrocketing because the American president believes Iran has a nuclear bomb. He bombs Iran and says, “It’ll all be over in three days.” After three days, he says, “It’ll all be over in three weeks.” After three weeks, the message is, 'We're talking to each other, but then again, maybe not.' Or maybe he fell for a scam. At his age, that can easily happen. Anyway, the president’s latest statement is that if Iran doesn’t see reason, we’ll just pull out again and dump the problem on the Europeans. Something like that can’t happen in real life, so I must be dead.

When you're dead and haven't even noticed

Another clue is the European stance. Suddenly, nuclear energy is “sexy” again—too bad they blew it up in Germany. Meanwhile, the German Foreign Ministry is doing away with press freedom and threatening all journalists not to undermine “our” information space. That must have happened in a brief moment when I found myself in a shift of the space-time continuum, because honestly, I don’t know what is meant by “our” or by “information space". Even on a catamaran, that can certainly happen once in a while due to the rocking of the boat. The weather here is mixed, and it rains very heavily from time to time. Autumn has arrived in New Zealand, and in the morning there’s sometimes fog with temperatures around 12°C.

If you have problems with the space-time continuum instead of your prostate

I’ve received the package in the meantime, and we’re taking advantage of a calm day to rethread the mast sliders onto the mast. This kind of work always requires the utmost concentration, because if you make a mistake, the balls (40 per mast slider) will pop out of their cage, bounce merrily across the deck, and then take a dip in the water—not without giving one last wave before their final leap. So this is something to avoid, which is why it’s best to do the threading with a partner. The calm day helps us attach each threaded mast slider directly to the sail. This way, after we pull the sail up a bit at a time, it is immediately secured and cannot fall out through the mast track, which opens downward. After a total of three hours, we are ready to sail again.

Old mast slider on the Katinka Enjoy

To be honest, I don’t know yet if I can still sail in this condition. Maybe someone else is familiar with this situation and can help me out. Another symptom only came to light recently. A nude model was—or wasn’t—virtually raped by her own husband. No one knows for sure, although certain people naturally have more information than the rest of the world. In any case, our Minister of the Interior wants to use this as an opportunity to introduce a real-name requirement for the internet to protect us all. Just as quickly as the whole thing blew up, it disappeared again. The Minister of the Interior stood completely alone and virtually naked with her demands, which ultimately led to everything being denied again. In real life, something like that can’t happen, so I must be dead. Here, too, I must have found myself in a space-time continuum for a brief moment, because what, pray tell, is a virtual rape? What irritates me about my condition are the lucid moments. Although you can never be sure if they’re actually real. It could be that Gaby is pinching me and shouting, “Get up already.” Though she wouldn’t pinch me, but rather give me a kick. In any case, we thanked our sailmaker this week for the beautiful cushions in the cockpit. He was delighted and immediately handed us the new gennaker as well. “You’ve already paid, haven’t you?” “Uh, no.” “No? Why not?” “You never sent a bill.” “Oh, my bad.” I love the Kiwis. Everything here is pretty straightforward. It makes life so much more relaxed—so relaxed, in fact, that you suddenly find yourself wondering, “Is this all still real?” In the meantime, we’ve replaced the sunshade with the winter cover. Now we can sit in the cockpit without getting soaked the moment it starts to rain.

From Parallel Worlds

Now that the American president has made a bit of a mess of his war efforts, fuel prices in New Zealand have also skyrocketed. Super+ now costs NZ$3.30, which is about €1.65. And there it is again, that nagging doubt: Am I dead and didn’t even realize it? In Germany, Super+ last cost €2.13 before the federal government’s measure to protect consumers took effect. After that, Super+ costs €2.20. Which prompts a European Commissioner to consider restricting Europeans’ travel options by law. Something like that can’t happen in real life, so I must be dead.

When the lights go out around the world

And if I haven’t kicked the bucket by then, you’ll hear from me again next week. Until then, fair winds and keep a stiff upper lip.