I firmly believe we create happiness and today I have outdone myself.

I am at the oceanside in a houseboat in the Florida Keys. A gentle breeze is blowing off the water. The vibe is super chill and laid back. The biggest noises around me are water lapping on the edges of other houseboats, a floatplane passing by overhead and squawking seabirds.

I may take a boat ride today. Or not. Frankly, sitting out here on a mini-dock with a cup of coffee may be as much activity as I need to make this a perfect day.

Earlier, an earnest Chinese man with his young daughter strapped in the front of a kayak emerged from a stand of seagrass not far from me. He made his way into our area in the distance. He was clearly struggling. He paddled this way and the boat went that way.

He would dip the paddle in the water again and bumped up against another houseboat. This went on for quite some time.

The whole time his tiny little girl sat upfront in the boat completely relaxed. Dad grinned and struggled to get the strokes right. Eventually they disappeared back into the seagrass alley from which they emerged after about fifteen minutes in our little cove. The expression of Buddha-like calm on the little girl’s face never changed throughout.

A pelican just flew overhead. Yesterday driving down here to the Keys on the Tamiami Trail, I saw a flock of about twenty pure white pelicans roosting together in a tree. Very few pelicans where I live in Florida. No ocean nearby, you see. So these seabirds are a visual treat.

Sitting on my tiny deck to write, it has started to rain. Just a sprinkle but enough to send me back inside and freshen the air outside.

I brought with me the fixings for a nice Christmas Eve dinner. A tenderloin wrapped in bacon. A long russet potato to bake and have with sour cream. I’ll gently fry a serving of gourmet mixed mushrooms with sliced onions to complete the side dish.

For dessert, a fancified gourmet caramel apple.

A houseboat does not have much space to spare. The listing says it sleeps four but didn’t actually say comfortably. There is evidence of careful space planning aboard and an economy of amenities.

It reminds me of a much simpler time in my life when I was a regular traveler. With only a backpack and a pair of good hiking boots, I lit out for all sorts of places even less well equipped.

Places where the only potable water was in the fast running streams along the trail. Where I made coffee by throwing the grounds in an empty tin can over a thrown together fire of twigs and larger pieces of hardwood.

This houseboat reminds ever so slightly of those bygone days. Turns out I forgot the bag of coffee and teabags I thought I’d packed. I made do by breaking into a couple of Keurig coffee pods I liberated from the hotel I stayed in last night.

My Swiss Rosti breakfast was so generous it made a fine leftover breakfast this morning. The roll I couldn’t eat yesterday will be a mid-afternoon snack with the sliced ham and Swiss cheese the breakfast came with.

What I feel overall is safe, satisfied and self-sufficient. I often feel this way while traveling. There is aught to worry about except finding a safe place to sleep and meeting your basic needs. In my daily life, there is much too much busywork. The trick will be to transport the peaceful vibe here to my life at home.

It will start with lowering expectations. I have some fantasy in my head generated by fancy magazines of how life is supposed to look and be. I forget that those “ideal” environments are created by people whose entire focus – indeed their livelihood – is to make those places look as perfect as possible.

So others of us – okay, me – writhe in shame and feelings of insufficiency when a spoon is out of place in the cutlery drawer. Poppycock, say I.

I once thought I could happily live permanently in something like an RV or a houseboat or a boat, boat. I no longer think that is realistic. What I long for, I realize, is the simplicity and uncluttered surroundings that tight quarters require. I’ve learned that stuff expands to fill the amount of space available.

In truth, we don’t need all that much to live a happy life. Not as much as we think we do anyway. And by no means as much as the marketing geniuses in Manhattan and elsewhere want us to believe we do.

This morning, I made a camp coffee equivalent out of the two Keurig coffee pods, relished my leftover potato pancake with ham and eggs, listened to (and I am listening to) sweet South American flute music on my computer.

The birds glide continually and effortlessly overhead. Another party of houseboat renters across the cover have what appears to be about five dogs in tow. They are frolicking with abandon on the dock outside the floating houseboat.

I can feel the built-up stress of the past few months seeping out of the end of my toes and my body gently collapsing in relief. Happiness is this simple to achieve, my friends.

It is an important reminder on this Christmas Eve that the life and lifestyle you seek may only be a potent wish, some elbow grease and a few hundred miles away.

Or right on your own doorstep. It is all a question of attitude and perspective to achieve..

2024 will be a year of “deaccumulation” for me. A commitment to getting rid of excess to get back to the basics of happiness the hides underneath it.

Merry Christmas, ya’ll from the mostly sunny (but sometimes rainy) Florida Keys. Happiness on a houseboat for me this holiday.