Its the little things that become normal when you sail for over two weeks. You forget what is actually strange.
The shower curtain moves of its own accord, one way down the rail and then the other, and then back. And the curtains will do the same given the chance.
Once you have run out of towels to shove in drawers of things that rattle (which happended quite quickly to us as Sam and Amy had a flooded cabin last week and have half our towels) you shove your jumpers in with your cups because the alternative is to hear them rattling all night.
You lie in bed awake at night wondering when the drawer of cutlery is going to leave the space where it resides preferring the freedom of flying across the room.
You have to tell your children they need to hold on to their bowl of cereal and that they can only have a drink once they have finished holding their bowl and can hold the cup instead.
Your shoe rack strews your shoes all around the floor and you just leave them there and walk over them as it would become a full time job fighting the waves trying to keep the shoe rack tidy.
At lunch you hear shrieks when there is a big roll and everyone goes to grab their cups and plates. Baby Emma moves across the dining room in her high chair while you hear the odd plate drop to the floor. Tom is convinced that the Ship will sink soon as the waves cloud the vision through the dining room windows and is quite relieved when Captain Tim leaves the dining room as now he can save us all.
You go outside and find yourself standing in a most undignified pose with wide legs just to keep yourself upright, committed to the idea of videoing the waves even though slowly freezing to death at the same time.
You start ranking the waves and the rolling according to which things have and haven't fallen over,whilst questioning whether it is because you have secured things better than the last sail that they are staying put.
I'll have to see what else we think of as the sailing continues...