Grump Central Archive: Week of 4 August 2019

Saturday, 10 August 2019

Shifting gears once again, I've begun work on the bookcase. One may wonder, with so many much higher priority things to do, why I've turned my attention to this. One of my goals is to get my cats into the house as soon as I can, and it occurred to me one day that, without the bookcase in place, there were holes in the framing that would provide them with access to places I'd rather they not explore: from here they can get under the laundry platform, and from there into the spaces behind the bathroom vanity, and if they were really ambitious, they could climb up the plumbing and get lost in the ceiling over the living space. I'd very much prefer they stay out of such places, so I'm buttoning up the entrance to this rabbit hole. Besides, everything has to get done anyway, and the order isn't all that important.

Friday, 9 August 2019

Still cleaning up from the hail storm. No damage to the house, just a lot of leaf debris. I did find a few dings on my car, but nothing worth repairing. Still amazed I didn't lose power.

Thursday, 8 August 2019

Yesterday afternoon was something of a mini-landmark day: I drove the last sheetrock screw in the main living space. Which means I can now look forward to months of taping, compounding and finishing work. (Alas, my least favorite chores...) However, yesterday evening I endured one of the most genuinely scary experiences I've had for as long as I can remember: a hail storm. It was my first—yes, seriously. For starters, in a metal-roofed building, the deafening roar was quite incredible! Even scarier was that, because I've been working on the garage, my car was parked outside; fortunately it survived unscathed. And then, the most amazing thing about the whole ordeal is that, despite golf ball-sized hail, thrashing wind and relentless lightning, I didn't lose power—there wasn't even a flicker. Go figure.

Wednesday, 7 August 2019

After a month of futile phone calls, I've finally learned from the Health Department that they'd already done their final inspections, and that they were waiting on paperwork from me. Impressive communication skills! Anyway, one tiny glimmer in this dark maelstrom of bureaucracy is that I could cut down the unsightly inspection ports in the disposal field, providing me with a much-improved view out the kitchen window. (Eventually the ground will be raised up even with the two septic access covers, and I'll plant a bunch of stuff around them.) Meanwhile, I spent 8-9 hours without power last night, and it wasn't due to some nasty storm—I was enjoying a fine sunset when the lights went out. JCP&L is certainly having a reliability issue...

Tuesday, 6 August 2019

I'm slowly making my way back to the land of the living. But it's not easy; the lure of being inert is strong.

Monday, 5 August 2019

Yesterday's post elicited a lovely email from an "e-friend" across the pond who has been (inexplicably) following my blog religiously for the last year and a half, and offering me encouragement on occasion. His message was so touching, in fact, that it made me cry. How can I properly thank someone who, in all likelihood, I'll never meet in person—but would dearly love to?

"It was so heartening to read the positivity in your recent blog post. I'm sure it's never lost on you how beautiful your surroundings are, nor how much you have accomplished. Never-the-less, when one becomes absorbed in the inevitable difficulties and setbacks (and how can we not?), the colossal achievements can be overlooked or appear diminished by comparison. But the true perspective on your labours shows such monumental heroism that it's jaw-dropping (or gob-smacking, as we tend to say over here). May the sun shine (through a delightfully cooling breeze) on your continued efforts!"

Sunday, 4 August 2019

My roofer's visit on Friday was fortuitous: unbeknownst to him, he'd made a much bigger tweak to my head than to the roof with the minuscule repair he'd come to do: it gave me an opportunity to look at my project with a fresh perspective. This is a gift I have here, a precious one that I've been squandering as I've allowed myself to be slowly crushed by a dearth of self-esteem. I think today I may finally break out of this funk. Thank you, Daryl.

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