August 05, 2008
Summertime...
.
...and the livin' is HOT! One of the curses on the damn yankee is that he loses his tolerance for northern nostril-freezing cold. Yet what human can adapt to the stifling, sponge-like atmosphere of the climes beneath the Mason-Dixon? Thanks be for A/C (working fine this year) and friends and Omies with pools, that's for sure.
The ailment commonly known as cabin fever was typically assigned to those who had been snowbound, but I submit it is equally applied to stay-at-home parents in the sweltering southland. And Mr. Procrastination has been his usual laid-back self, saving the kitchen floor project until the last week of Jen's summer break.
It caused a bit of a mess, with ceramic tile, grout and mortar dust covering everything and the kitchen in general discombobulation. It still is slightly due to the "cascading project principle" that reveals a minimum of four other things that need to be upgraded due to the initial upgrade. But anything worth having is worth working for (and as Mr. P would add "worth waiting for, too"):
Thanks to Marshal for taking time out of two days to help with the toughest parts of the job. I hope I wasn't too much of a tittybabywanker perfectionist. He would patiently indulge my inquiries of why option B might be better, often capping the discussion off with the phrase, "Well I guess you better cut it then."
I can't fully express here the joy of knowing I will never again step on a razor-sharp chunk of loosened grout whilst scuttling barefooted to the sink in the mid night. We are going to have to keep poor Ballou's claws trimmed close though, as she resembles a newborn fawn every time she gets up.
I leave you all with this delightful sight of summer, taken a few minutes after the camera lens defogged:
...and the livin' is HOT! One of the curses on the damn yankee is that he loses his tolerance for northern nostril-freezing cold. Yet what human can adapt to the stifling, sponge-like atmosphere of the climes beneath the Mason-Dixon? Thanks be for A/C (working fine this year) and friends and Omies with pools, that's for sure.
The ailment commonly known as cabin fever was typically assigned to those who had been snowbound, but I submit it is equally applied to stay-at-home parents in the sweltering southland. And Mr. Procrastination has been his usual laid-back self, saving the kitchen floor project until the last week of Jen's summer break.
It caused a bit of a mess, with ceramic tile, grout and mortar dust covering everything and the kitchen in general discombobulation. It still is slightly due to the "cascading project principle" that reveals a minimum of four other things that need to be upgraded due to the initial upgrade. But anything worth having is worth working for (and as Mr. P would add "worth waiting for, too"):
Thanks to Marshal for taking time out of two days to help with the toughest parts of the job. I hope I wasn't too much of a tittybabywanker perfectionist. He would patiently indulge my inquiries of why option B might be better, often capping the discussion off with the phrase, "Well I guess you better cut it then."
I can't fully express here the joy of knowing I will never again step on a razor-sharp chunk of loosened grout whilst scuttling barefooted to the sink in the mid night. We are going to have to keep poor Ballou's claws trimmed close though, as she resembles a newborn fawn every time she gets up.
I leave you all with this delightful sight of summer, taken a few minutes after the camera lens defogged:
The indica buds (that is Lagerstroemia indica, aka crepe myrtle).
.
Labels: homeowner, seasons, summer
August 15, 2007
It's not the heat...like hell
.
Oh gawd has it been sweltering in the sultry southern states. We've had triple digits the past several days, and no rain in sight. It's neither a good time to be a farmer nor a farm animal. While my tolerance for my native northern cold has become totally wussified, my fortitude against the southern dog days has improved little if at all. I feel like Pvt. Jerome in Biloxi Blues - "Man it's hot. It's like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot."
Well here's fun little story for you. About a month ago our central a/c went kaput. We sent for a man to come peruse the situation and he determined that we had a "porous coil," and since the unit was 11 years old, both the inside and outside units needed to be replaced because all new equipment is on a higher efficiency rating. I was inclined to feel like I did when I took my first car in (1973 Chevy Nova Hatchback) for an oil leak and the mechanic said, "Weeell, you might need a whole new car..." without a trace of sarcasm in his drawl. Anyway, we called for a second opinion and upon inspection of the outside unit No. 2 says, "That's a big old hole in the side there." Porous indeed - it looked like it had been attacked with a hatchet. No. 2 confirmed the "whole new car" theory and backed it up with a quote of only $4,850, tax included. I asked him if the hole looked like mechanical failure. "None that I've ever seen," was his reply. So near as I can figure some neighbor punk came around whilst we were away or Mr. No. 1 was trying to upgrade his service call.
Long story shortened: homeowner's insurance say "okey-dokey," and after three weeks of no central air (we borrowed a couple of window units that barely staved off insanity) we're in the cucumber business once more.
.
Oh gawd has it been sweltering in the sultry southern states. We've had triple digits the past several days, and no rain in sight. It's neither a good time to be a farmer nor a farm animal. While my tolerance for my native northern cold has become totally wussified, my fortitude against the southern dog days has improved little if at all. I feel like Pvt. Jerome in Biloxi Blues - "Man it's hot. It's like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot."
Well here's fun little story for you. About a month ago our central a/c went kaput. We sent for a man to come peruse the situation and he determined that we had a "porous coil," and since the unit was 11 years old, both the inside and outside units needed to be replaced because all new equipment is on a higher efficiency rating. I was inclined to feel like I did when I took my first car in (1973 Chevy Nova Hatchback) for an oil leak and the mechanic said, "Weeell, you might need a whole new car..." without a trace of sarcasm in his drawl. Anyway, we called for a second opinion and upon inspection of the outside unit No. 2 says, "That's a big old hole in the side there." Porous indeed - it looked like it had been attacked with a hatchet. No. 2 confirmed the "whole new car" theory and backed it up with a quote of only $4,850, tax included. I asked him if the hole looked like mechanical failure. "None that I've ever seen," was his reply. So near as I can figure some neighbor punk came around whilst we were away or Mr. No. 1 was trying to upgrade his service call.
Long story shortened: homeowner's insurance say "okey-dokey," and after three weeks of no central air (we borrowed a couple of window units that barely staved off insanity) we're in the cucumber business once more.
.
Labels: global warming, heat, Holy Crap, homeowner, madness, The South
