Grump Central Archive: Week of 1 December 2019

Saturday, 7 December 2019

So I've made a deal with the septic engineers: do all of the tests, and I'll pay them on a payment plan to spread the cost out several months (and it'll be a really lean several months, that's for sure). So far there have been no objections, but I've never fully trusted that sort of luck until I see it in writing. If—and that's a big "if"—all goes well, this whole mess might be wrapped up the first week of 2020, just a few weeks shy of the one year anniversary when I first applied for the TCO. Place your bets... Meanwhile, Wacky Weather is on the way: Tuesday's high is supposed to hit 60, while Wednesday night's low might touch the teens. I'm awfully glad I have my wood stove. Also, one year ago today, all of the windows and doors were finally in.


Friday, 6 December 2019

Once again events conspire to destroy my enthusiasm. Here I was just beginning to make some progress recovering from the last spate of depression, and I'm right back in the black pit. It's left me feeling somewhat philosophical: life is like a bumper car ride, where I'm just trying to finish the bloody race—without any thought of necessarily winning it—and there are scores of others much more interested in interfering with my progress than making their own. Adding insult to injury is their hypocrisy: they're the first to complain when it happens to them, but the last to admit they're doing it to others. It makes me yearn to be a true "mountain man," totally isolated from humanity.


Thursday, 5 December 2019

I'm still reeling from the news bomb dropped on me yesterday. I've written the Township explaining my situation, and their reply made it very clear I've no choice whatsoever; the tests must be done if I'm to receive approval. And to think I once considered my home a sanctuary; now I'm forced to wonder: sanctuary from what, exactly? Because it certainly doesn't seem to provide me with much solace anymore; in fact, it's increasingly becoming a mini-nightmare all its own. If someone offered to buy it from me tomorrow, right now I'd find it difficult to refuse. (Incidentally, today's image was not photoshopped; a little accidental wrinkle in the wrapper made all the difference.)


Wednesday, 4 December 2019

Well, the County Health Department has really stuck it to me big time. They refuse to budge from their demands for new permeability tests, despite the fact they'd already approved the septic system four years ago. Why would they do this? Because they can. But that's not the worst of it, because I've just received an estimate from the engineers to perform the new tests and wrap up the paperwork: between two and four grand. It'll take me months to accumulate that much scratch, which pushes the TCO well into 2020. And here I thought, once the commercial property debacle was finally over, I was done with nonsense like this. I'm beyond despondent—indeed, I'm millimeters away from just throwing in the towel. The bastards are grinding me down.


Tuesday, 3 December 2019

With just the barest dusting, this turned out to be a "nothingburger" of a storm in this area, thankfully—not that a more severe storm would have had any impact on me. And with a predicted high in the 40s today, this will probably all be gone by lunchtime.


Monday, 2 December 2019

Crap is on the way, with anywhere from three inches to a foot of snow predicted. The good news is that daytime highs for the rest of the week are in the 40s, which means the white stuff won't last. I'm well-stocked with firewood and Thanksgiving leftovers, so I can just hunker down and enjoy myself while commuters struggle with the mess.


Sunday, 1 December 2019

Spent Saturday doing next to nothing. Cleaned up from the dinner, regrouped, and sat around feeling quite alone. I've always been a loner, but I seem to be slowly transmuting into a somewhat more social person in my old age. Then I pondered the next season: soon it will be time to bid fall farewell, and hunker down for three months of winter. At least I can rest comfortably knowing that, no matter what comes, I'll remain quite cozy.

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