Night Mooring in the Central Anchorage

I set my evening course across the linoleum toward the wide haven beneath the dining table. Four heavy wooden chair legs stood anchored around the perimeter like the pilings of a fortified drydock. Between the rear two posts, a discarded paper bread tag lay tilted on its edge like an unmoored buoy. Approaching at steady low propulsion, I aligned my bow against its notched plastic frame and nudged it flush into the groove of the baseboard, securing the dock. Sliding my hull parallel between the two table legs, I halted all engines. Anchors set; the central harbor is peaceful for the night.