Tag: home repair

Now Where’s My Coffee?!!!

photog Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner ,

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?!!!

Sympathy for Sauron

photog Current Events, OCF, Science Fiction / Fantasy ,
Fall of Barad-dûr

The Compound has been invaded by an army.  They have occupied many of the high points and they have laid siege to the citadel.  Actually, I have a contractor doing major surgery on the foundations of an extension of the main building that was rotting out.  The floor of a room had rotted away and the only reasonable solution was to replace a column-on-pier foundation with a poured slab.  Suffice it to say that it is fiendishly expensive and extremely ticklish construction in that the three stories on that part of the building will need to be jacked up off the piers and the columns truncated to accommodate the new height of the foundation which will also be the new floor for that room.  I daily expect the whole building to collapse like Barad-dûr after the destruction of the One Ring.  Poor Sauron.  A ring makes a damn poor foundation for a tall structure like that tower.

But while all this is going on I’m kept amused at just how little insurance companies are willing to admit is within the scope of their policies.  Regardless of how much we pay in premiums their responsibilities are hemmed in by endless deductibles and limitations on liability.  Their favorite retort to almost anything I say is, “You’re not covered for that.”  It’s to the point I’d almost hope that a catastrophe would be truly apocalyptic so that I could see them cower at the size of their payout.  But deep down I know I would still be the loser.  You can’t beat these people.  Compared to them the Mafia are boy scouts.  Poor Sauron.  I’ll bet he got nothing from his insurance company when the Barad-dûr came crashing down.  They probably had a waiver for unforeseen termite or hobbit damage.

So daily I have to reassure Camera Girl that when all this is over, she’ll still have a roof over her head and enough money to buy us pumpernickel bagels.  She is extremely allergic to large checks.  In fact, she insists that I write all of them because that way it’s my fault.  In some sense I guess she’s right.  If it had been up to her, we’d still be living in an apartment in Brooklyn.  I guess in that sense she is the true conservative in the family.

When the dumpster arrived, Camera Girl was hopeful that the builder would allow her to use the dumpster to get rid of some of her least favorite debris.  We have a collection of yard junk that she hates with a passion; garden hoses, wire fencing, a couple of old garden swings and a large pool warming cover that is flaking apart.  I opined that the dumpster would be completely filled and probably filled again before the builder was finished but hope springs eternal.  But then I told her that she could get her own dumpster for less than what a contractor would charge her for interfering in his operation and that seemed to work.  She hates being charged more for anything.  She is a very frugal woman (thank heaven).

I wonder who got the contract to remediate the site of the Barad-dûr collapse.  After all that had to be some serious toxic waste.  I’m guessing it would have been dwarves that took the work.  They worked in metal and stone.  Surely, they could salvage something from the rubble pile.  Maybe they could turn it into Section 8 housing for unemployed orcs.  I mean live and let live, right?

Those who call houses money pits are completely justified.  Unless you yourself are a jack of all trades, the liabilities of owning a home are staggering.  But the alternative of renting is even worse.  I completely sympathize with the Millennials and Zoomers who are confronting the herculean task of trying to buy a home in Joe Biden’s America.  But without home ownership how can you truly know the joy of having someone knock your house down just to rebuild it at great expense.  God bless America.

A Great Victory for the Muse of Home Repair

photog Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner ,

Forsaking my usual patron deity, the great goddess Atrophia, I made a burnt offering of 2X4s and a mitre box at the altar of  Δόμος Επίδοσις, The Muse of Home Improvement.  The smoke was propitious.  An eagle flew from left to right across the sky and dropped a 3/8″ hex head socket at my feet which I took as a sign from Zeus that all was well.  Filling my chariot with lag bolts, drill bits, pry bars, extension cords, two throwing spears and a two-ply bull-hide shield I thundered onto the plain of battle prepared to perform mighty deeds of valor.

My enemies fled before the baleful fire that flashed from my eyes.  I grabbed my weapons, jumped from the chariot and attacked on the run.  Within an hour I was victorious.  All my enemies were vanquished and I raised a trophy of the spoils of war.  Epic bards and rhapsodes will sing the praises of this day for millennia to come. Go pound sand, Achilles.

Translation:

That fence post support worked like a charm.  The post is straight and solid as a rock.  And the steel should last long after I’m mulch in the ground.  But there was no parade.  No hecatombs  burned in my honor.  Sometimes it barely pays to be a demi-god.

17DEC2021 – OCF Update – The Joys of Home Repair

photog photog's Corner ,

Today I went out armed with enthusiasm and determination.  Also with bespoke fence supports, rebar, sledge hammers, levels, shovels and stainless steel screws.  And after several hours I came back a broken man.  My only solace is that I learned a valuable lesson, namely whatever you assume the worst case is, quadruple it.

My predecessor at the Compound was an inveterate do-it-yourselfer.  Which I’m sure saved him scads of money on contractors.  However, it meant that orthodoxy was not something he was held to.  When putting in a wooden fence it is best practice to set the posts in concrete.  Apparently Mr. DIY decided that was way too belts and suspenders for him.  So bye bye to bespoke supports.  Hello to hammering in any wooden or metal stakes I could get my hands on and nailing them to the posts.  Even aside from the unpleasing aesthetics of this makeshift solution, my confidence in the dependability of these repairs is very low.

I guess this spring, I will get to experiment with installing concrete footings.  But as a very lazy man my soul rebels at the enormous effort I’ll be expending.  Oh, the pain, the pain.

Well now by comparison writing a post or two seems like a walk in the park.  I’ll be doing a review of another of the last of the Star Trek season three episodes.  It was terrible but now I have something worse to compare it to, home improvement catastrophe.