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Image 1 of / 13 Caption Close Image 2 of 13 My new home. My new home. Image 3 of 13 I truly loved living on the houseboat. I truly loved living on the houseboat. Image 4 of 13 A view of my new home. A view of my new home. Image 5 of 13 Image 6 of 13 A view of my new home. A view of my new home. Image 7 of 13 A view of my new home. A view of my new home. Image 8 of 13 A view of my new home. A view of my new home. Image 9 of 13 A view of my new home. A view of my new home. Image 10 of 13 Image 11 of 13 Image 12 of 13 A view of my new home. A view of my new home. Image 13 of 13 Former KGO personality stays anchored in Bay Area by downsizing to sailboat 1 / 13 Back to Gallery

When I first lost my job in the mass firings that decimated the KGO Newsroom in San Francisco, I had to think fast. There was no way I could afford my room in a Sausalito houseboat at $1,450 per month, and my fancy gym membership at $210 per month, on the meager unemployment rations the state would throw my way. I’d be broke, dipping into my savings to afford my Bay Area lifestyle. Something had to give.

So, I put in my notice at the houseboat, canceled my fancy gym and made plans to go from news anchor to at anchor, and live with my boyfriend on his 41-foot sailboat.

The boat is an old-fashioned beauty, a boat built in Taiwan, made to resemble the wooden boats of bygone-days. It has teak decks, two masts, and a deep, 6-full hull made for ocean crossings. There’s a galley, a dining area, a small living room, a bedroom, a bathroom and a V-berth. However, the boat is under a complete restoration/renovation, and at this point there’s no stove, no toilet, and no shower. But it’s cheap, and is beautiful and serene, so I decided to hop aboard.

One thing about moving out of a 3-bedroom, 3-story houseboat into a 1-berth sailboat is that there isn’t any room for Stuff. No huge closets, no chest of drawers, no place to display knickknacks or photos, no cabinets in which to stuff endless kitchen supplies. In fact, anything sitting “out” would get thrown around the cabin during a battle with ocean swells, so best to keep the Stuff to a minimum, and keep what you do have tucked away while you batten down.

So I continued my divorce with stuff I started a year ago by selling furniture, consolidating my childhood memories into a few bins, and donating clothes and books and movies and Stuff to Goodwill. I got rid of Most Things Replaceable and whittled down to Things That Matter. Now, all my worldly possessions consist of what would fit into a handful of plastic bins, a few suitcases, a couple conga drums, and backpacking gear. It’s enough to fit in the corner of a garage. And it sure feels good.

With this purging of Stuff, I’ve felt some space clear out inside of me. I’ve come to realize that Stuff bogs us down. It makes our lives and our energy cluttered. It ties us to one place. It becomes a nag, a force, something to reckon with. Through giving up Stuff, I have gained freedom, independence, the possibility of a clutter-free life, both visually and energetically. I feel ready to accept new experiences, new joy, new adventures.

And this first new adventure involves living on this boat, where I feel the fresh sea air on my face through the open companionway as I prepare “no cook” meals in the kitchen, things like black bean salad and ceviche. Where I can hear the squeak of the rigging and the gentle lap of water against the hull. Where I live without a television and now find myself reading more, playing chess and singing and chatting with my boyfriend more often. Where I’ve lowered my carbon footprint dramatically, with utilities at only $3 per month. Where I feel closer to nature and the tides and sea animals than I ever have before.

This is what I call living, even though I have no stove or refrigerator or toilet or shower, no washer/dryer, no internet. Most of these things will come, with time and hard work. Helping my boyfriend re-plumb the boat, and seeing water stream from the taps for the first time seemed like a miracle. It’s an adventure living without common amenities, amenities I will soon help to install. For now, I find myself appreciating the smaller things in life.

I’m also enjoying the immense sense of peace I’ve gotten from my release from endless daily work and commuting just to pay the bills, so I can collapse, exhausted, to watch a TV show that doesn’t matter. I now can control my time, my energy, and my mental focus. I’m still looking for full-time jobs, but in the meantime I’m pursuing my true love, which is writing. I feel like the world is my oyster, and I’m ready to set sail and explore.

While my move to a sailboat may seem too dramatic or difficult for some, for me, the simplicity and beauty is rewarding. I don’t have to break the bank to stay in the beautiful Bay area. I have traded in the anchor/reporter desk for a different sort of anchor, one that doesn’t tie me down, but sets me free.