Category: Life in Dunwich

My Adventures in the Mythical New England Town of Dunwich

The Sourest of Grapes

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Today I heard an hilarious argument as to why it is cheaper to live in New England than in the South.  The main points of the thesis are that the infrastructure and services available here more than make up for the exorbitant cost of living.  So, for instance, whereas the cost of owning a car in New England (insurance, mechanic’s charges, taxes) are much higher, because the roads are so much better your car will last much longer.  When I heard this, I was thinking about what road salt does to the frame of a car in New England every winter.  And then I thought about my recent drive on I-95 and the craters there that I drove over.

Next up was the world class medical care available in this region of the country and nowhere else.  Now, it is without a doubt true that some very fine doctors and hospitals exist in places like Boston.  But it is also true that there are plenty of really mediocre medical centers and even terrible ones up here.  And I have experienced both so I’m not sure I believe that this is a slam dunk.  I guess if your health is extremely poor this might carry some weight but I have heard of good hospitals sprinkled around the country and in addition if someone is in desperate need of specialized care like a knee replacement or something I’m guessing you could travel for the procedure.  So, let’s call this a 50/50.

But the final point was the best.  The overarching reason to live in New England is “the culture.”  That one I think made me snort out loud.  Apparently going into Boston or New York City to see “Hamilton” or some other masterpiece of middle-brow pomposity is supposed to make up for ridiculous real estate prices, outrageous utility and fuel bills, failing schools and colleges and an, in general, overregulated existence.  And once you add the prevalence of increasing violence and squalor in the urban centers to the equation what exactly is there to extol about this region of the country?

But the participants in this New England pep rally nodded their heads and agreed that no sane individual would even think of packing it in, selling off the family home and buying a bigger house for half the price in a place where you can walk around in February in a light jacket and snow is an oddity that you hear about in stories about Santa Claus.

Well, I guess heaven (or hell) is where you make it.  I will admit that we’ve had a beautiful fall with balmy weather extending almost all the way to Halloween.  But eventually you have to pay the piper and the wind has been blowing pretty hard and the leaves have been stripped from a lot of the trees (except the oaks).  So even these people making believe they live in a wonderland know the awful truth.  After Christmas is over, the really awful stuff will begin.  Even with the milder winters we’ve been having, there are four months of bleak, cold weather waiting for us; January, February, March and April.  That’s a bitter pill.

Round and Round it Goes

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Having made it halfway through the marathon nightmare that is the Dunwich Autumnal Zombie-fest I’m beginning to believe I may survive this horror again.  And today was a respite.  I was off-duty and lounging around complaining about my fate.  But at 2pm I had a teleconference with the marketing professional that provided me with a proposal for launching my book, “The Sniper.”

I had gone through the proposal earlier and put together questions about schedule and ancillary activities (e.g., getting a book cover, coming up with my pen name) and I selected the services that I wanted to include in the contract and also, I wanted to specify the date when most of the activities would start.  The meeting went very smoothly and all of my questions were answered and all of my provisos were accepted.

And so now it’s a go.

Sometime before the end of the year there will be a release date and word will go out to all of the non-left-wing science fiction readers that a new classic story has appeared on the literary horizon and everyone who is anyone will be demanding the fastest delivery possible to start reading this splendiferous story as soon as humanly possible.  And the critics will fall over each other praising its qualities to the skies.  And all the Big Five publishers will be fist-fighting each other at my front door trying to buy the rights to my next novel in the series with ingots of rhodium stacked up in a wheelbarrow behind them.  And Joe Rogan will beg me to come on his show and talk about the inspiration I had for the story and about putting him in my next book as a minor character.  And then Donald Trump will mention me in his press conference as an example of someone whose mere existence is making America great again.

And of course, I will be incredibly humble and dignified during all this hoopla.  After all dignified humility is something, I’m well known for.  And I’ve got the whole thing completely covered because my dignity is humble and my humility is quite dignified.  So, there’s that.

When I told Camera Girl the cost, I wasn’t sure at first whether she was going to hit me.  But she just shook her head and walked away.  I told her that a good wife encourages her husband and supports his decisions.  She nodded and said, “Sure, support.  There you go.”  I thought it was weak but as I said she didn’t take a swing at me so a win’s a win.

And honestly, I’m pretty excited about the whole thing.  I’m completely aware that the odds are way, way stacked against me.  99.9999% of books don’t sell more than a few copies.  It’s one in a million that hits a home run.  But I’ve always, since I was a kid, wanted to write a science fiction story.  And now, for better or worse, I have and for once in my life I’m gonna do something crazy.  I want to do what I can to make sure that as many people as possible read it.  I’m putting all the chips on double-zero and spinning the wheel.  And round and round it goes.

Reprieve, Reprieve.  Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight, Mr. Snedrig

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As I have whined interminably about, I am in the midst of a long, boring and exhausting project from which death would be a welcome release.  But today I unexpectedly discovered that I have a two-day respite from this miserable existence.  I have Friday and Saturday off.  And just like that my heart is full of joy.  I can sleep in tomorrow morning, maybe as late as 6:30 a.m.!  “I’m as light as a feather! I’m as happy as an angel! I’m as merry as a schoolboy! I’m as giddy as a drunken man!”

Seriously, when some onerous burden is unexpectedly lifted off your shoulders, even if only for a little while, it changes your attitude.  Because now the thing that you had seen as impossibly hard has been cut into a smaller piece.  It can never now be what it was.  It is diminished.  Even if the diminution is minor, the psychological effect is great.

I will spend tomorrow weighing some decisions that I need to make.  I have a lot of factors and unknowns that need to be considered and somehow weighed against each other.  I have to perform the hardest of all tasks; think intelligently.

But all that is okay.  This two day carve out of time is a perfect interval to look carefully at the problem and make some kind of decision.  Maybe it won’t be definitive but at the very least I’ll be able to define the time parameters needed to answer all the questions.  And to me that is an important milestone in any project.

I was watching a YouTube video from someone who argued that human colonization of other planets was highly improbably and interstellar colonization was completely impossible.  For interplanetary human travel he pointed to the health problems associated with extended time in freefall and the damage to human health from radiation that permeates the environment beyond the Earth’s atmosphere and magnetic field.  In addition to these problems, for the case of interstellar travel, he pointed to the issues that a twenty-thousand-year multi-generational space ship would create for the humans within.  First off, he reiterated that all health issues would be magnified by several orders of magnitude over such an enormous length of time.  But he also stressed that a flight of that duration would see a genetic selection among the crew for individuals with anti-social or even psychopathic tendencies.  He predicted that well before arrival, the crew would have sunk into barbarism and cannibalism.  Now that’s a scenario I can stand behind!

Anyway, it was very interesting, if a little bit depressing.  One thing I learned is that mammals brought onto the International Space Station to test the effects of microgravity on reproduction had a 100% rate of birth defects due to developmental anomalies caused by the lack of gravity.  Well, all this negativity sure puts a damper on a lot of my favorite science fiction stories from the golden age of science fiction.  Where does that leave “Red Planet,” “Farmer in the Sky” and “The Rolling Stones?”  Well, maybe we can find a workaround.

Diplomacy, Gerrymandering and Ice Cream

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Friday will be a very long day.  Excuse my absence from the site.  I’ll do my best to catch up later.

Well, I’ll have to say I was shocked that Hamas gave up the twenty living hostages.  I am a little suspicious of their claiming to not have all of the remains of the dead hostages.  Maybe they’re still holding onto some of the living that way.  But all in all, it seems like the Arabs are applying the screws to Hamas and that is a good sign.  Trump is getting some credit even from the leftist media and that is also encouraging.

And I hear that the Supreme Court is about to declare some parts of the Voting Rights Act unconstitutional.  Specifically, I think they’ll say that the present maximizing of black representation is a form of anti-white discrimination and that may be an incredible change to the breakdown of seats between the Democrats and Republicans in places like Alabama and Mississippi.  Good.  Gerrymandering makes a 60/40 state like Massachusetts into a 100/0 state in terms of representation.  There are zero Republicans in the US House of Representatives from Massachusetts.  Why should there be any Democratic reps in places like Oklahoma or Utah?  Just draw the district maps so that the Republican suburbs and exurbs out number the urban Democrat strongholds and presto change-o no Democrat reps!  Sounds like a plan.  Thank you, Massachusetts!

Now I hear Trump is going to meet with Zelensky and then give the Ukrainians Tomahawk missiles.  That’s a very powerful weapons system.  And then I hear he’s going to meet with Putin.  Well, he’s really going to have to pull a rabbit out of his hat to end this war.  But let him try.  I just hope we don’t start taking incoming from Russian surrogates.  I was just beginning to hope Trump was serious about making the world more peaceful.  Fingers crossed.

Even though we’ve already had frost on the ground Camera Girl was able to find a live preying mantis in the yard and now it’s taking up residence in our house.  She even bought some crickets at Petco and hopes to keep it alive for the duration.  I warned her this might be a very short reprieve.  I think they’re not programmed to live very long after maturity.  Well, I hope to take some macro shots of our little houseguest before he kicks off.

Unbelievably we’re still getting raspberries from the patch and we had them today with vanilla ice cream.  But we’re down to the nitty-gritty.  I think we’ll be getting a hard freeze in the next week or so.  And I’ve taken a bunch of photos of the wolfbane because by Halloween they’ll be wilted too.  Today the bees and the flies were the only insect life I saw around the yard.

So, a beautiful September and beginning of October is transitioning to more wintery weather but spirits are high and with any luck I’ll survive my three-week ordeal with First Selectman Cthulhu with only superficial damage.

Excelsior!

Fall Nor’easter

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Recently Camera Girl was in a phone conversation with one of her relatives.  It seems there was a panic situation over a “Nor’easter” predicted to impact the … well, fittingly, the Northeast.  We were being warned to batten the hatches and hide in the storm cellar.  So, I looked at the calendar and determined it wasn’t late March and went back to sleep.  You see, in early spring a Nor’easter will take a bunch of cold water from the Atlantic and dump it on New England in the form of a thirty-inch snow storm.  When this happens in early April it’s just a barrel of laughs.  Wet snow like that is so heavy that clearing it is a nightmare and so disruption of normal activities is almost inevitable.  A spring Nor’easter is reason to pay attention to the weather.

An early fall Nor’easter is not the same animal.  The water in the Atlantic is warm at this time of year and the potential for snow is essentially zero (except on the tops of the White Mountains in New Hampshire).  So, what are we talking about?  Well essentially rain and wind.  Alright, rain and wind can be bad.  Ask the folks down in Florida and the Carolinas.  They have a whole lifestyle that revolves around the existence of things called hurricanes.  Wind and rain can do lots and lots of damage and under certain circumstances can kill people.

According to my local forecast over the course of Sunday through Tuesday we’re predicted to get two to three inches of rain.  And on Monday there are predicted to be 25 mph winds.  I don’t know.  That doesn’t sound bad at all.  Now granted, Dunwich is not on the coast.  Maybe the costal areas are going to get a bunch of storm surge and that could cause some unusual flooding which in certain areas can be disastrous from a property damage perspective and also could create a drowning risk.

But I think people are starting to get a little too safety conscious.  If it was ten inches of rain and sixty mile an hour wind, I’d be a lot more concerned.  I’d start collecting up the lighter yard equipment and store it away.  I might even leave the shed near the swamp unlocked so the lycanthropes could take shelter there during the storm.  But three inches of rain and 25 mph winds is just not that frightening.  Now one thing that is worth taking into account is the chance of losing power.  The electrical grid in New England has become increasingly fragile since the green energy boondoggle has been made a permanent facet of life here.  For the smallest fluctuation in conditions or for no discernible reason whatsoever we get power outages almost routinely now.  And it could last a second or a minute or a week depending on factors like weather or some act of God (like a spring Nor’easter).  So, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if the power goes out Sunday night or Monday during the day.  But that’s what the generator is for.  The thing kicks on after ten seconds and runs for as long as a couple of weeks if needed (or longer if I get a propane refill).  So, actually, my most reliable power is when the grid is down.

So, Nor’easter.  I think we’ll be fine.

 

Update:

TomD

No current events here in the Florida Panhandle. But there have been some doozies since we’ve lived here. One non-hurricane May rain event about 10 years ago dumped over 20 inches of rain in 24 hours, most in 10 hours. It was apocalyptic, it took years to repair the damage.

For fun times, about 4 years ago, a new replacement multi-mile long bridge was in construction connecting Pensacola to Gulf Breeze. That is a MAJOR local corridor. An October hurricane came through and the bridge contractor hadn’t adequately secured the numerous construction barges. Several barges broke loose and destroyed a number of bridge spans, necessitating a 50 mile detour for any of the many 10’s of thousands of people a day.

Pict below taken from old bridge. When they completed two lanes of the new bridge, traffic was shifted there and the old bridge was demolished. That was when portions of the completed 2 lanes of the new bridge were destroyed.

DSC02157
DSC02157

Update:

TomD

Picture of the Pensacola Beach fishing pier as a tropical storm comes onshore. No surfing or swimming that day for some reason. Spoilsports!

On a normal day, the pier is 25′ above the water.

DSC1309t
DSC1309t

 

Update:

Tregonsee

I’m out here on the North Shore of Massachusetts near the coast, unlike Dunwich that’s way over to the west (and can have a little bit of elevation if you’re anywhere near Greylock). At present (early afternoon Sunday), it’s a lot of nothing. Mild breeze and occasional showers. Expected .5-1″ inches of rain and wind in the 20’s tomorrow. If the wind were to tag 45+ for extended periods it might be an issue with the leaves still on the trees it might take some branches down. It’s a rain storm with a mild cyclonic pattern. As Photog noted if this were March or February it might be an issue. True Nor’easters are rare in December or January as the Gulf stream is cooler and the storm really doesn’t pick up the moisture it needs to be a nuisance. Big bummer is it interferes with doing anything outdoors on Columbus day which is often the last warm weather for a while

 

Firehose of Alka Seltzer

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Farmer Cthulhu in His Fields

Thursday night we had our first frost here in Dunwich.  It was light and wasn’t a killing frost, at least not completely.  There were hoverflies and dragonflies and of course bees buzzing around today.  And the remaining flowers (wolfbane and Montauk daisies) are still more or less undamaged.  But the writing, as they say, is on the wall.  And wonder of wonders, Camera Girl asked me to turn the heating system back on!  Turning the heat on before November is usually me throwing in the towel and her mocking my delicacy.  Well, it really was cold last night.  But I think the real issue is that Princess Sack of Potatoes is staying over on Sunday and she wouldn’t want to be responsible for giving our granddaughter a cold.  And tonight, we had the first butternut squash chicken soup of the season.  Ah, what can I say?  There are compensations for the end of the warm weather.  Stuffed to the gills with such splendiferous food I am happy and content.

But the sad truth is that I am on the cusp of the dreaded evil times in Dunwich.  For the next four weeks I will be a veritable captive in the thrall of First Selectman Cthulhu and his evil regime of ghouls and bureaucrats.  I will be forced to do their bidding and many days I will be incommunicado.  This year it has been decided to make up the short fall in the town budget by having a raffle.  Everyone’s name goes in First Selectman Cthulhu’s size 666 hat and whichever hundred names he draws have to make a choice; pay one hundredth of the shortfall or be summarily eaten.  If they choose ingestion then we pick another name from the hat to make up the hundred.

My job is to gather the money from those paying or alternatively, providing a firehose pumping Alka Seltzer from a nearby pond whenever the appetizers start to make the First Selectman a little verklempt.  Mine is not an easy life.  But it pays the bills.  And the retirement benefits are pretty good.  I hope most people pay.  We didn’t account for the price of Alka Seltzer going up.  If we run low, I shudder to think how I’ll get through the collection, never mind the audit.  Well, no use whining.  On with the show.

So, this means there may be some dead air here at the site.  Of course I am making accommodations.  I’ve loaded up a month’s worth of “Quotes of the Day.”  Twenty-two of those will be by Ernie Pyle in his capacity as a WWII combat reporter.  Those will be starting in four days.  And I’ll be working tomorrow to put together a month’s worth of “Photos of the Day.”  So, there will certainly be content.  But the daily column may sometimes seem substandard, as if dictated by a drowning man.  Well, they say that some people work best under pressure.  Unfortunately, nobody’s ever said that about me.  So, there it is.

And here we are a couple of days after the Gaza agreement and the Middle East hasn’t reignited.  Dare I hope?  Stay tuned.

Cruel Aesop

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The last two weeks have been unseasonably warm here in Dunwich.  And believe me I’m not complaining.  Summer-like days and mild nights is wonderful.  Not to mention I must be saving money on heating oil.  And it means we can enjoy the summer activities a little longer.  For instance, the raspberry bushes are still producing fruit.  Not as many as last month but enough to enjoy a treat from time to time.  And I can still go out and take some macro shots of insects and the few flowers that haven’t completely died.  In fact, the wolfbane is about to bloom in the next week or so.  And every night when I bring the dogs out for their final walk, I can hear the crickets chirping away.

And there is an enormous number of them because the sound is everywhere and it is fairly loud.  But at the same time, it has a different sound in the fall.  This is based on the air temperature.  The lower temperature means the sound will be lower pitched and slower.  It’s almost like a power hum that has fallen an octave.

And to my subjective ears it sounds sad and confused.  It’s as if the crickets don’t understand that they are preparing to die.  Unlike Rutger Hauer’s character in “Bladerunner;” Roy Batty, they don’t realize “it’s time to die.”  And that’s exactly the vibe I get when I see the last of the dragonflies moving around the fields.  They’re confused and slowing down and it’s as if their programming is failing.  It doesn’t cover the case where the weather stays warm after they’re supposed to have died from freezing.

It’s also the case of the preying mantises.  They’re still walking around the gardens trying to find food or mates but they’re running out of steam.  Their eyes are already dark and they’re going through the motions but they’re already the walking dead.  Even if I handed them food, I doubt they could eat it.

The only insects that haven’t succumbed to seasonal despair are the honey bees.  They still go around visiting the last living flowers gathering pollen and nectar to bring back to the hive.  And that’s because they have a future and a plan.  They’re filling up the remaining cells in their combs with food to keep the hive going right through winter and into spring.  Their program hasn’t run out.

Now, I am aware that this is just my emotional response to the realities of insect life and its relationship to seasonal variation.  Evolution has crafted the life cycle of most insects in the non-tropical regions to include the death of adults in late fall.  This is the result of millions of years of evolution and it’s a fact of life.  But humans are affected by these facts and have speculated about them going all the way back to Aesop in ancient Greece.  He talked about the ant and the grasshopper that brings up the same exact dichotomy that I see between the honey bee and the cricket.

And humans anthropomorphize these creatures making the ant a hard-working and thrifty fellow and the grasshopper a lazy, hedonistic good-for-nothing.  Well, Aesop was preaching.  While I find the cricket and even the dragonfly sad figures.  After all, don’t we all eventually find our lives winding down?  And even if it is the circle of life, it has a certain tragic aspect.  Well, just a bittersweet reflection on the beautiful Indian Summer that we’ve been gifted with this year.

You Pays Your Money and You Takes Your Choice

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So, I learned some stuff today about publishing a book.

  • There’s no such thing as an objective authoritative critic who can tell you whether your book is good, bad or indifferent. In other words, “You pays your money and you takes your choice.”  If you believe your book is good then you take your chances.  So that puts the onus back on me.  Do I believe in my book or not?
  • After you write it and put a cover on it and edit it, then you have to get influencers to tout it and reviewers to praise it. But after all that you have to advertise it on Amazon to the tune of thousands of dollars.  Otherwise, no one will know it’s there.

Well, now I’ll have to search my soul and decide just how much I want to get my book out in the world.  Do I put my money where my mouth is?  I guess I’ll find out.  Now, all this is still preliminary.  I have to get a cover and get an editor to tell me about all my typos and inelegant grammatical constructions.  And get a marketer to “alert the media.”  And for the next month I’m going to be buried under a project that will prevent me from concentrating on anything important.  But by the third week in November, I’ll be available (other than a Thursday where I’ll be buried under cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie).

Well, it was definitely a clarifying experience.  There’s no way to pass the buck on a thing like this.  The author has to search his soul and use the wisdom of Solomon to make the correct decision.  Well, so what?  What’s Solomon got that I ain’t got, in spades?  Darned right!

So, if you drive through Dunwich and you see a disheveled geezer picking up bottles and cans on the side of the road, it may be me trying to raise enough capital for the project.  With any luck I’ll strike oil in the north forty and I can start on the gold leaf hardcover edition that all of us “real authors” like so much.

Okay, so enough moaning and groaning.  The journey is the reward they say.  So, I’ll just follow my nose and see where all this ends up.  Of course, if I get too enthusiastic Camera Girl will wonder why the checking account has gotten so anemic.  And that could trigger all kinds of hazardous situations.  After all she has complete control over my food supply and knows my sleeping habits.  But I won’t allow artistic decisions to be influenced by cowardly and pedestrian concerns. “Ars gratia artis,” you know.

Well, back to something comical; the government shutdown!  I hear Trump is going to permanently terminate “hundreds of thousands” of federal employees to get back at the Democrats for shutting down the government.  That’s a pretty bold move.  I’m starting to believe there are no limits to what he plans to do to the federal government.  He seems to be borrowing Obama’s statement that he would “fundamentally transform the United States.”  And at this rate maybe Trump will actually do it!

A Respite.  What’s Not to Love?

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Another day, another mass killing in a church.  Okay we need a break today.  Need something that won’t push me over the edge into catatonia.  Let’s see.

So, Camera Girl and I went to a gathering of my weekly zoom-call buddies.  It was a rescheduled Labor Day party that was cancelled because of weather, I think.  Our host had a pork roast in a smoker and other delicacies.  Camera Girl baked a ricotta cheesecake and some other stuff and we relaxed around a giant fire pit in a cauldron hung from a heavy chain attached to a tripod.  We ate and socialized.  There was a lot of talk about music.  Our host is a musician.  He’s a singer and guitar player and after dinner he set up a band and played country favorites and some eclectic tunes along with songs of his own.  The audience was very appreciative as well they should have been.  It was very enjoyable.

Afterward there was some political discussion amongst a few of us but my heart wasn’t into it.  It was much more enjoyable to discuss the merits of and differences between Hank Williams Senior, Junior and the III.  And talk about who really played the instruments on the Beach Boys, “Pet Sounds” (apparently studio musicians called, “The Wrecking Crew”).  Sure, we did talk a little about Charlie Kirk’s murder, but I much preferred spending time talking about the old days and some of the characters who we worked with but hadn’t thought about in a long time.  Reminiscing actually is a lot of fun.  And there were people there I hadn’t seen in a long time.  And everyone got along great.  And I did hear some very good health news about someone who had had a terrible accident.  So, all in all, it was an excellent night.

But all too soon Camera Girl reminded me I needed to head home and we said our goodbyes.  But when I got home, I was inspired by the musical nature of the night to dig out a bunch of CDs that I had bought but never ripped onto my computer and put on some thumb drives to listen to in my car and around the house.  You see I’ve never gone in for streaming.  I don’t use a cell phone at all (well, I have a flip phone that I charge up if I have to go out of town).  So, my music is based on my CD collection.  Well, I had about ten albums that I hadn’t heard in a few years so I added them to the playlist and damn!  All of a sudden, my music was light years better than it’s been in forever.  So, ignoring the present apocalypse has been very pleasant.  Sure, I’ll have to come up for air soon and the horror is just waiting for me to come back to the surface but for a short exciting moment I was living in a happier world without trans-psycho-killers, Antifa losers and government shutdowns.  What’s not to love?

Now Where’s My Coffee?!!!

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While I sent out copies of my book to somewhat willing beta-readers I remembered I had some projects kicking around the house.  When I mentioned this, Camera Girl informed me that I had failed as a maintenance manager.  She handed me the contact information of the last plumber we had used (quite a while ago) and reminded me that we now had three plumbing issues that needed to be attended to.  These problems had been haunting her sense of propriety for a good long while and now righteous anger had welled up and I was the malefactor who should have taken matters into my own hands long ago, “Call him today!  It’ll take a week to get him here so get this done before we’re too busy in a couple of weeks.”  I nodded my head in bitter remembrance.  She was right.  There was a water line on one of the toilet tanks that leaked when it was flushed.  There was a shower drain on the first floor that had a plate that had no screw holding it down but was welded tight and she was afraid it was clogged based on some comments she had heard from the kids during the summer pool season when they used that shower after swimming.  And finally, there was that sink basin that had a crack in the porcelain that leaked.

Each problem separately was minor and ignorable for at least the medium term.  But taken together they spoke of dereliction of duty, mopery and dopery, flimflammery and bone-laziness.  I was contrite.  I mumbled my assent.  And she left to go about her litany of errands.  She had to buy crickets for the two preying mantises that she had captured this week.  She wanted to save them from the approaching cold weather.  And also, to see if they would produce egg sacs for next year.  And she had various other duties; packages for the post office, books and movies to the library, a jigsaw puzzle for a friend of hers and some miscellaneous goods to buy at Wallymart.  Each one of these multitasked errands added to the indictment of my malfeasance.

So, I sat down and tried to put down on paper the plumbing work I wanted done.  After all you don’t call a tradesman and ask him to spend expensive time without trying to minimize the cost by defining the work.  First off there was the leaking water line on the toilet.  It was one of those somewhat flexible stainless lines.  Where it met the valve near the floor it was rusted from the dripping water it created.  But was it dripping from the toilet connection or the valve fitting.  And I realized I had never even bothered to decide which problem it was.  If it was leaking from downstream of the valve, maybe I could buy a new piece of flexible line and replace it beyond the shutoff valve.

So, I went upstairs and looked at the line.  It was dry.  So, I flushed the toilet and I saw drops of water flowing down from the toilet to the floor.  Now I was interested.  I kneeled down and twisted around and I could see a plastic fitting at the toilet tank.  There was a threaded nut.  So, I tried to hand tighten it.  It gave a little so I tightened as hard as I could by hand.  I dried off the line and flushed the toilet.  No water.  I flushed it again.  No water.  I flushed it a third time.  No water.  Hail the conquering hero!

I went down to the bottom floor and looked at the shower drain.  Sure enough, the drain plate had no screw but was tight to the orifice.  I stared at it for a few seconds and pulled on the plate as hard as I could and it popped off. There was some debris in it so I got my pliers and pulled out some hair and muck.  Then I ran the shower full blast for ten minutes.  No water backing up.  Now I was a veritable demigod of home improvement.

I marched up to the cracked sink with an air of bored confidence and examined the piping connections.  Sure enough, there was a plastic threaded coupling connecting it to the piping and almost nothing else in the way from removing it from the countertop.  With a look of contempt, I walked over to the contact information with half a mind to call up this tradesman and inform him that his services would not be needed.

When Camera Girl returned, I straightened her out on the status of her honey-do list.  “Items one and two solved!  Item three has been surveyed, a path forward has been devised and the schedule is already in place.  Now where’s my coffee?!!!