Today I am on the prowl for 8" sanding discs. The hull sanding will send me straight into the pulmonary ward, I am sure.
Nora has been scraping the deck.
Paul promises doing something technical to the place where the hull meets the keel and the stem. It involves cotton, and a tool that looks like a hoof pick.
Apparently it is an art, and though I have become an Acolyte epoxy and caulk applier, I really need the hazing ritual and the secret handshake to repair this particular seam.
Which, since it's the part that keeps the thing afloat, is probably a good thing.
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