Sunday, February 4, 2007

hair ball

Some of this may qualify as a repeat broadcast.

I could respond at length, but I'm off to the west coast tomorrow to stuff myself with crab and oysters I'll maybe help Mum celebrate her birthday too, but food? It's all about the food baby!
I don't want to talk about kids anyway. I'm missing my eldest. She's having too much fun and has left us for the wilds of life in the fast lane. < g > The middle one is skiing in BC just now. She's having too much fun. My thirteen year old is, well... she's thirteen! I don't know of a cure for that condition, other than time. :P Mr. Ungrateful

Today was a day that just would not quit. I had made a stupid mistake on Friday, but lived to tell the tale. The cold really took it out of me. I sat on the couch that evening and enjoyed the vibrant colour display of a young Grammostola rosea - Chilean rose tarantula and was so happy to be doing so. Today I apparently had to pay up for the mistake.

On awakening this morning I was informed that the water pipes had frozen. It was a chilly -38C (-36.4F) and even with specific measures to buffer the foundation with some insulation, old man winter had crept in to bite my water supply. A flame of propane and some patience meant it wasn't long before I could move on to my morning barn chores.

Once I got the critters fed and watered, the home flow had gotten a little too thick to move in the pipes again so the rehearsal wasn't wasted and my final performance included a 5000 watt construction heater and the dryer plug. I haven't heard any complaints since although it wasn't the last trip to the basement with tools in hand today.

My Mother in law has been out for a few days so I was on my best behaviour in ensuring she had a hot and frothy latte to help ease her morning. I put the finishing touches on the care sheet for tending to the chores while I'm gone. Three pages isn't too much is it? It's that roach colony that put it over the top isn't it?

Once PU was out the door to run Jeannine back to the city, I made myself a pot of green tea and settled in to catch up on some email for half an hour. Having decided that the sun was sufficiently warm looking to support some wood splitting, I sought my mitts and toque, but before that could come to fruition, Manon came out of the shower and suggested there was some kind of problem with the shower. "It just filled up" was what she said and sure enough it had. There was about a dozen centimeters of dirty water in the bottom of the shower stall.

I was beginning to think that I was looking very much forward to enjoying a football game later on with some crunchy corn product and a comfy chair.

I popped the grate away from the drain and began to feed the snake down into the elbow. I didn't get far before it was coming back with some nasty evidence of the dreaded hair ball. I had hoped to feed the snake through the curves and send the dirt ball on it's way, but that wasn't to be of course. I believe this was true, only because there was quite a late start to the game and there was still plenty of time to get very dirty.

I banged and twisted my will through that snake and down into the drain for some time before accepting that the little plug in the elbow was going to have to come off. This wouldn't normally have been thought of with any trepidation, but I had done that part of the plumbing. Being the rank amateur that I am, I had left little room between the top of my gun safe and the bottom of that plug. It's not that there wasn't plenty of room to undo the plug, it's just that there wasn't enough room for that and a pail.

Back to the shop for a 7/16ths socket and ratchet to remove the lag bolts from the safe mount. I had forgotten how heavy that case is, but I can verify it now with the ease of perfect recall.
Once the shower was drained I could begin to wrestle the hair ball from it's residence. I had thought that maybe it was on it's own, but it had made it's entire extended family welcome in the tight confines of that drain. I'm not sure that there wasn't a host of vagrants freeloading off the primary occupants. I'm finding it difficult to imagine how they built such a complex community without showing themselves to be taxing the system long before shutting the system down completely.

They were thick as thieves in there. A large screw driver was my first tool of choice, thinking I'd just lever bits of the family out into the pail below. There was far too much resistance. Inbreeding had been going on for quite a while and they had all taken well to a very tight loyalty to the larger family.

By this time the lack of elbow protection was adding to the sense of sewage these folks seemed to live for. I was dirty like watchmakers almost never are. Manon went out to the shop for some more serious tooling specifically designed for extractions and all was well again soon. Then I set to work cleaning up and dancing a tango of sorts with the unwieldy gun safe and the alignment of some lag bolts.

The snake, pipe wrench, crescent wrench, sockets, ratchet and pails followed me upstairs. I cleaned the shower and hauled the tools to the shop to clean and protect them from rust. Just as I was finishing, and about ready to rinse out the pails, Manon comes in with the phone and says "It's Mum, she's got car trouble." I'd be lying if I said I was surprised.

"I stopped for fuel and then it wouldn't start" she said. Then she added "I've got a flat too." Now a double? Why a double? This was uncalled for. I wished her luck and am grateful for friends in St. Pierre where she had stopped.

Once the pails were rinsed, I was eyeing the clock and thought it wise to get the afternoon chores out of the way before game time. On returning from feeding the chickens, Manon greets me and says "Mum phoned. If she's not home in half an hour you're supposed to go and find her."

Now I'm thinking the possibility of me making my game time are not displaying the favourable odds I had first placed my bet this morning. None of the other vehicles were plugged in and the wind chill had taken the temperature down to -44C (-47.2F). If either the truck or the car were to be plugged in, it would be two hours before either of them had a prayer of firing and there would be absolutely no guarantee that either vehicle would have battery strength to get the job done on that short a jolt from the respective block heaters.

I felt the sadness creep up my back. The tires are three weeks old. Michelin Hydro edge, just not my usual Canadian Tire all season tires. No, no, these were pricey things that I'd been having a blast with. I could drive through anything! It has been so much fun, but I was having a weak moment and the fun had drained out of me. I know, my bad, but I'm a wimp. It's no secret.

I suppose the rest will be written in the morning. I'm supposed to be at the airport in the city for 14:30. It's not going to be any picnic for temperatures tomorrow any more than it was today, but at least the warnings have stopped. When they cancel school for the kids and suggest that any exposed flesh will freeze solid in thirty seconds or less, cars don't always want to do the happy dance.
More will be revealed.
Stoking the fire

No comments:

Post a Comment