It was 6:45 AM, and I wasn't in the mood for this. We were at Exuma Park, going through the morning rituals to slip the mooring and get underway to Staniel Cay. Then I saw it, the bread dough that I had left rising on the cabintop the night before. It was no longer rising quietly in it's plastic bag. It had busted forth all over the top of the cabin. I looked further and saw that the dough oozed over the starboard side and down to the deck, where it mingled ever so slightly with the jib sheet and came to rest against the genoa track. One of the reasons I let my dough rise in a plastic bag is to keep from getting gooey dough all over me and my bowls. I have limited water for cleanup, and this method has been working fine. It doesn't work so well when I forget to place the zipper part of the bag up. Left in an inverted position the yeast and dough expanded against the seam and it gave way. At least it didn't harden. And so I found myself using a spatula to lift and place the mess back into the bag before breakfast. Al started helping, and as we tried to get the dough to cooperate with where we tried to put it, we got the giggles. Bread would have to wait a day longer, but the fish on the banks were in for a treat later in the day. I lowered the bucket over the side and sluiced the deck with seawater to rinse of the last bits, and we were finally able to get underway for Staniel cay.