There was only one problem; there always is. My banker was having an accounting meltdown, but he wouldn’t admit it. The two of us had had previous procedural problems, and bankers, in general, seem to love to bedevil sailors. My having no fixed address was “highly unusual,” as he put it. “Ditto no phone, no credit cards, no bills.” He seemed to question my very existence, even wondering how a person could live outside of a 9-to-5 routine.