Well, two guys from the place that installed our furnace in 2003 (October, to be precise) came by on Tuesday. They spent a very long time trying to figure out what was wrong, and came to the conclusion that a tray--maybe drip pan is more accurate--that is supposed to collect the water created by the unit has cracks in it. Why? Because "somebody who worked on it" likely cracked it--"It's real easy to do"--and the vibration of the furnace probably made it worse.
Since only people from their company have worked on our furnace, I found the "somebody" irritatingly evasive. They then proceeded to declare the furnace "cheap," which, if memory serves, is not how the man from this same company referred to it when he sold this supposedly high efficiency furnace to us back in the earlier part of the decade. Not for a bargain price, certainly. I recall our getting three bids, and theirs was right in the middle.
Harrumph number 2.
Last but not least, they said that they are going to try to find a new drip pan for me, but aren't sure one will still be available. It was such a cheap furnace, after all. To patch it, they put about a gallon (or so it smelled) of glue on it to fill in the gaps. Sheesh!
I was close to a full boil about an hour after these guys left, for after thinking about it a little while, I figured out that what they told me was, in essence: (1) the furnace they sold me seven years ago is junk, (2) they aren't interested in taking any hint of responsibility for that or the cracks "somebody" put in it, and (3) if they can't find a pan, well....
Since when is seven years the life span of a furnace?!
If, heaven forbid, a pan cannot be found (or fabricated--thanks for the hot tip, Jennifer), I will be spending a chunk of Linda's insurance money on a new furnace.
Bummer.
Of course, I won't buy it at the place that sold me the piece o' crap in '03. Oh no.
So, if anyone has any strong opinions on the best forced hot air furnaces available in our humble corner of the Commonwealth, do tell. (More tips on hot water heaters are welcome, too.)
On other fronts, I just finished watching "Whip It," the Drew Barrymore film glorifying women's roller derby. I found it a delightful Girl Power romp with some good dialogue, punk derivative eye candy (Juliette Lewis was particularly fierce) and Marcia Gay Harden (who I love in just about anything).
Also decided to order "Linda's" book through CaringBridge. It will include all journal entries, comments and pictures. Was a little shocked at the cost ($175), but figured it was worth it. This format will be a lot easier to peruse than a web site, certainly. And I will keep this book for the rest of my life.
Here's hoping that's a good long time.
Otherwise, it's just cold. Damn cold. Shwea lifting her paw ever-so-pathetically after a few minutes outside cold. Had plans to go out and about later this afternoon, but thought about it and decided this was a day to hunker. And to be grateful that I and my snoring mass o' fur have a roof over our heads and a working (for now) furnace. Here's hoping some day all people can say the same, eh?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Things are looking slightly upish
Am very surprised to report that the snow removal person who I gladly parted ways with called up after he picked up his payment to smooth things over. He wanted to talk about taking another go at my driveway and walk, and I was completely stymied as to the right response. I'm all for second (third, fourth and beyond) chances, but there was something so off-putting about his work and his reaction to my view of it, I haven't been able to get up the gumption to call him back.
Gumption has been a rare and wonderful thing these days where my own best interests are concerned, so I'm guessing I just don't have it in me to try, try again on behalf of someone else.
Perhaps the right thing to do is to not call him back. I feel that he just isn't a fit for my humble home. As I wrote on the note that accompanied his payment, "Enclosed is your first and last payment, which is probably all for the best for both our sakes."
I think that about sums it up. Besides, I have the another snow remover, one who comes highly recommended by a woman at church, coming by to check out the house. So, here's hoping.
On other fronts, the toilet that resisted repair is now behaving itself, and my favorite home inspector of all time, "Uncle Gordon," came by and gave me a helpful report on the house. Gordon saved Linda and me from any number of bum houses, and is a certified character to boot. When he came by on Saturday, he proudly referred to himself as a Cranky Yankee.
But he's a Cranky Yankee with a soft center, which means he's my favorite type of person (crusty on the outside with a creampuff center). I had him over to provide me with a proper "to do" list for the house, which, for obvious reasons, had been left to its own devices for the past couple of years, and could use some work.
There was good news. I should be able to keep the old siding going for as long as I live here, as long as I give it a proper scrape and patch and paint in the spring and on a regular basis thereafter. Also, the roof may not need to be replaced after all, though I may want to do it if there's only one layer of shingles (if there are two, it's best to drag it out as long as possible, as that's when the job gets expensive).
There was some not-so-good news. I need to get some topsoil and regrade portions of the outside of the house, so the water heads away from the foundation, not toward it. Also, my hot water heater is getting to the age when it could fail spectacularly, and I would be well advised to get a new one sooner rather than later.
And there was some sorta good, sorta not-so-great news. I have had water in the basement near my furnace that was a mystery to me. While Gordon thought at first it was the hot water heater, that wasn't what my handyman thought after doing his own investigation. The handyman thought I had water coming up from under the house, and would need to take some extraordinary (read: expensive) steps to get that to stop.
Gordon, bless him, decided to snoop around inside the furnace, which is a high-efficiency forced hot air type, that due to how it works, creates water. This water is supposed to go down a tube and into a pump that sends it on its merry way, but that apparently hasn't been happening. Instead, water has been dripping down inside of the furnace, and going to the floor, where it has been collecting and occasionally making a mess.
So, my furnace isn't working, but I don't need to have the yard dug up to waterproof the whole house. Happy day!
Gumption has been a rare and wonderful thing these days where my own best interests are concerned, so I'm guessing I just don't have it in me to try, try again on behalf of someone else.
Perhaps the right thing to do is to not call him back. I feel that he just isn't a fit for my humble home. As I wrote on the note that accompanied his payment, "Enclosed is your first and last payment, which is probably all for the best for both our sakes."
I think that about sums it up. Besides, I have the another snow remover, one who comes highly recommended by a woman at church, coming by to check out the house. So, here's hoping.
On other fronts, the toilet that resisted repair is now behaving itself, and my favorite home inspector of all time, "Uncle Gordon," came by and gave me a helpful report on the house. Gordon saved Linda and me from any number of bum houses, and is a certified character to boot. When he came by on Saturday, he proudly referred to himself as a Cranky Yankee.
But he's a Cranky Yankee with a soft center, which means he's my favorite type of person (crusty on the outside with a creampuff center). I had him over to provide me with a proper "to do" list for the house, which, for obvious reasons, had been left to its own devices for the past couple of years, and could use some work.
There was good news. I should be able to keep the old siding going for as long as I live here, as long as I give it a proper scrape and patch and paint in the spring and on a regular basis thereafter. Also, the roof may not need to be replaced after all, though I may want to do it if there's only one layer of shingles (if there are two, it's best to drag it out as long as possible, as that's when the job gets expensive).
There was some not-so-good news. I need to get some topsoil and regrade portions of the outside of the house, so the water heads away from the foundation, not toward it. Also, my hot water heater is getting to the age when it could fail spectacularly, and I would be well advised to get a new one sooner rather than later.
And there was some sorta good, sorta not-so-great news. I have had water in the basement near my furnace that was a mystery to me. While Gordon thought at first it was the hot water heater, that wasn't what my handyman thought after doing his own investigation. The handyman thought I had water coming up from under the house, and would need to take some extraordinary (read: expensive) steps to get that to stop.
Gordon, bless him, decided to snoop around inside the furnace, which is a high-efficiency forced hot air type, that due to how it works, creates water. This water is supposed to go down a tube and into a pump that sends it on its merry way, but that apparently hasn't been happening. Instead, water has been dripping down inside of the furnace, and going to the floor, where it has been collecting and occasionally making a mess.
So, my furnace isn't working, but I don't need to have the yard dug up to waterproof the whole house. Happy day!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Never accept never--whether you're a person of color or queer as a $3 bill
Thank you, Dr. King (letter from a Birmingham jail excerpt in honor of today's holiday):
"We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was 'well timed' in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word 'Wait!' It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This 'Wait' has almost always meant 'Never.' We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that 'justice too long delayed is justice denied.'"
"We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was 'well timed' in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word 'Wait!' It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This 'Wait' has almost always meant 'Never.' We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that 'justice too long delayed is justice denied.'"
Rant Alert: Hooray for the half-assed!
Thought I had found just about the perfect person to clear the snow from my driveway and walk. He used a snow throw instead of a truck with a plow, so I didn't have to worry about Linda's carefully-tended yard getting chewed up. He was older-sounding (I never met the man), so assumed he was less likely to flake out (if you'll pardon the expression in this context). And since he did this for a lot of people on a neighboring street (at least that's what he said), I figured he did okay work.
Well, today was his first chance to strut his stuff, and alas, he didn't strut--he stumbled. In fact, he did the sort of half-assed job I'd expect out of a distracted teenager, and that may be an insult to distracted teenagers everywhere. (Sorry, kids.)
Worse, he was offended when I told him what I thought of his work when he called to arrange payment. Somehow, the onus was on me to let him know sooner that he didn't do a proper job.
That sort of thinking makes me crazy. I've come across it before. There are an unfortunate number of people who seem to do as little work as they think they can get away with (he told me he was in a hurry, after all), then leave it to the customer to call them on it if they're not happy. No call, no problem--they bank on people being too busy and/or timid to follow up--and the result is full pay for a job sloppily done.
Hooray for the half-assed!
It certainly didn't help that he huffed ("Well, if only you had called me, I would have come back") and he puffed ("I'd say the job was 99.9% done") and he blew me off, as though I had the problem ("If this is how you're going to be, I'm taking you off my list").
Sigh. Alas, I feel like such a relic when I run up against a member of the Half-Assed Club (HAC). I don't think I'm particularly difficult, but I do have this thing called a work ethic. I would have been embarrassed to have presented the job he did as "done."
Bottom line: If a person has to shovel for 20-30 minutes after you leave, you didn't 99.9% finish, for pity's sake.
Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest, such as it is.
The good news is I have one less HAC to contend with, but now I don't have someone to remove snow. This is not a big deal now, but it will be when I go on vacation for two weeks, and can't do it so the house/pet sitter can tend Shwea.
So, friends, if you or anybody you know could use some extra money (I was going to pay the HAC member $35 per visit), have them get in touch with me.
Here's to being HAC-free for the foreseeable, A
Well, today was his first chance to strut his stuff, and alas, he didn't strut--he stumbled. In fact, he did the sort of half-assed job I'd expect out of a distracted teenager, and that may be an insult to distracted teenagers everywhere. (Sorry, kids.)
Worse, he was offended when I told him what I thought of his work when he called to arrange payment. Somehow, the onus was on me to let him know sooner that he didn't do a proper job.
That sort of thinking makes me crazy. I've come across it before. There are an unfortunate number of people who seem to do as little work as they think they can get away with (he told me he was in a hurry, after all), then leave it to the customer to call them on it if they're not happy. No call, no problem--they bank on people being too busy and/or timid to follow up--and the result is full pay for a job sloppily done.
Hooray for the half-assed!
It certainly didn't help that he huffed ("Well, if only you had called me, I would have come back") and he puffed ("I'd say the job was 99.9% done") and he blew me off, as though I had the problem ("If this is how you're going to be, I'm taking you off my list").
Sigh. Alas, I feel like such a relic when I run up against a member of the Half-Assed Club (HAC). I don't think I'm particularly difficult, but I do have this thing called a work ethic. I would have been embarrassed to have presented the job he did as "done."
Bottom line: If a person has to shovel for 20-30 minutes after you leave, you didn't 99.9% finish, for pity's sake.
Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest, such as it is.
The good news is I have one less HAC to contend with, but now I don't have someone to remove snow. This is not a big deal now, but it will be when I go on vacation for two weeks, and can't do it so the house/pet sitter can tend Shwea.
So, friends, if you or anybody you know could use some extra money (I was going to pay the HAC member $35 per visit), have them get in touch with me.
Here's to being HAC-free for the foreseeable, A
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Oil can
Spent the evening just thinking about looking at bathing suits at Lands' End. But I couldn't actually look. Not yet.
Need to be rested, and maybe I also need to have exercised in some way/shape/form before I do it.
Not that I need a little exercise. I need a lot of exercise.
I have, in the parlance, "let myself go." Or, as I've begun saying, "I have expanded my horizons to an alarming degree." Right now, my horizons are on par with those of the Central Plains--a vast expanse with no end in sight, for those geography-challenged among you.
Of course, it's no surprise that this has happened. As you know, I've been through a rough patch lately. And "lately" is since April of 2008, when my gal was diagnosed.
Like far too many people, when the going gets rough, my people get eating.
Not that I overate the whole time, mind you. For most of this time, I ate and exercised I as usually have, mostly. And for part of this patch, I followed a strict food regimen with Linda that consisted of vegetables (mostly carrots and potatoes), flax oil and nonfat yogurt. While that diet kept the weight off, it also turned me an alarming shade of orange.
Looking back, I don't think I really put the feedbag on until a few months before Linda died. And I've kept it on until now.
Not really a good idea, this I know. One downside is that I've become increasingly creaky. I've learned that my carcass needs to move around on a regular basis or I start feeling like the Tin Man when we first meet him in "The Wizard of Oz." After a two-hour meeting at work this morning, a coworker asked me if I was limping, and I had to admit I probably was. After I walk a while I smooth out, but if I've been sitting for a while, it's not pretty.
You should see me first thing in the morning! Come to think of it, you shouldn't.
And no, walking the Bombshell doesn't cut it. She doesn't walk, really. She meanders. And a good meander may be wonderful for contemplation, but it's not exercise.
So, I am going to try to get moving again. Maybe, just maybe, my creakiness will abide. Maybe I'll also be able to look for a swimsuit. We'll see....
Need to be rested, and maybe I also need to have exercised in some way/shape/form before I do it.
Not that I need a little exercise. I need a lot of exercise.
I have, in the parlance, "let myself go." Or, as I've begun saying, "I have expanded my horizons to an alarming degree." Right now, my horizons are on par with those of the Central Plains--a vast expanse with no end in sight, for those geography-challenged among you.
Of course, it's no surprise that this has happened. As you know, I've been through a rough patch lately. And "lately" is since April of 2008, when my gal was diagnosed.
Like far too many people, when the going gets rough, my people get eating.
Not that I overate the whole time, mind you. For most of this time, I ate and exercised I as usually have, mostly. And for part of this patch, I followed a strict food regimen with Linda that consisted of vegetables (mostly carrots and potatoes), flax oil and nonfat yogurt. While that diet kept the weight off, it also turned me an alarming shade of orange.
Looking back, I don't think I really put the feedbag on until a few months before Linda died. And I've kept it on until now.
Not really a good idea, this I know. One downside is that I've become increasingly creaky. I've learned that my carcass needs to move around on a regular basis or I start feeling like the Tin Man when we first meet him in "The Wizard of Oz." After a two-hour meeting at work this morning, a coworker asked me if I was limping, and I had to admit I probably was. After I walk a while I smooth out, but if I've been sitting for a while, it's not pretty.
You should see me first thing in the morning! Come to think of it, you shouldn't.
And no, walking the Bombshell doesn't cut it. She doesn't walk, really. She meanders. And a good meander may be wonderful for contemplation, but it's not exercise.
So, I am going to try to get moving again. Maybe, just maybe, my creakiness will abide. Maybe I'll also be able to look for a swimsuit. We'll see....
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
See that big juicer down there? It's SOLD!
My dear friend and coworker Jennifer just sold that enormous, expensive and absolutely insanely industrial stainless steel juicer on my behalf. Hooray!!
Jennifer sold it to a nice couple who were interested in Gerson Therapy, even though she also told them the fate of the original owner of said juicer (someone with quite a vested interest in the success of Gerson Therapy, to put it mildly).
To each his/her own, eh?
What a relief! Happy day!
2010 is looking pretty darn good already, wouldn't you say?
Jennifer sold it to a nice couple who were interested in Gerson Therapy, even though she also told them the fate of the original owner of said juicer (someone with quite a vested interest in the success of Gerson Therapy, to put it mildly).
To each his/her own, eh?
What a relief! Happy day!
2010 is looking pretty darn good already, wouldn't you say?
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Ready as I'll ever be for 2010
Spent the long weekend on retreat with a great bunch of gay, lesbian, trans, straight and undecided sweet peas. Glorious!
As I think I've mentioned before, this was the retreat I met Linda on, so there were a good number of people there who have known Linda longer than I.
There were tears, of course. We also laughed ourselves silly--and not just during the no-talent show, but that was one of the most hilarious things I have seen in a very long time. It felt like a dream, a dream featuring most terrible drag acts ever, performed by dear men who had no business doing drag but who could not care less--they just wanted to have fun, and did they ever. My face hurt from the laughter, and that hasn't happened to me in ages.
And I was able to share about Linda and some of what this past year or so has been like. It was difficult to do, but so freeing--and it was appreciated by people who knew her and by many who didn't. One dear man told me he had wondered who Linda was when he saw how upset people were when they heard about her passing during the last retreat (held just after she died). Due to what I shared during the weekend, he felt as though he knew her a little, and thanked me for it. Felt so very good to hear that.
And the hugs--the glorious, numerous, heart-felt hugs. Best medicine for a broken heart, ever.
So I feel about as ready as one in my shoes can hope to be for 2010--this ought to be good.
As I think I've mentioned before, this was the retreat I met Linda on, so there were a good number of people there who have known Linda longer than I.
There were tears, of course. We also laughed ourselves silly--and not just during the no-talent show, but that was one of the most hilarious things I have seen in a very long time. It felt like a dream, a dream featuring most terrible drag acts ever, performed by dear men who had no business doing drag but who could not care less--they just wanted to have fun, and did they ever. My face hurt from the laughter, and that hasn't happened to me in ages.
And I was able to share about Linda and some of what this past year or so has been like. It was difficult to do, but so freeing--and it was appreciated by people who knew her and by many who didn't. One dear man told me he had wondered who Linda was when he saw how upset people were when they heard about her passing during the last retreat (held just after she died). Due to what I shared during the weekend, he felt as though he knew her a little, and thanked me for it. Felt so very good to hear that.
And the hugs--the glorious, numerous, heart-felt hugs. Best medicine for a broken heart, ever.
So I feel about as ready as one in my shoes can hope to be for 2010--this ought to be good.
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