Window installment

Today we switched out windows. Some weeks back, when the windows were delivered, DH realized he needed to distribute them around the house to make it easy for the framers to put them in the right window holes. So he put each window next to the opening it was supposed to go into.

They all look identical, except that some open and some do not. However, some are required by code to be tempered glass, such as the one at the bottom of the stairs; that way, should you fall down the stairs, you will not crash through the window like a character in an old western. Instead, you’ll crash against the window, which may fragment, but it will not shatter, so you’ll have a concussion and possibly broken bones, but at least you won’t be impaled by a million shards of glass. Always look on the bright side, I say.

At any right, the tempered ones look just like the non-tempered ones, except for the tiny word “tempered” on the window sticker. So the tempered window intended for the bottom of the stairwell accidentally got installed in the bedroom, while the identical non-tempered one for the bedroom got installed at the bottom of the stairwell.

Upon discovering the mistake, DH asked the framers to come back and switch them, but then he mentioned he’d probably accidentally put them in the wrong spots himself. So they did not come back to switch them.

This concerned me, since they are large windows, fairly high up, but it went more smoothly than I expected. Yes, DH had to totter on a ladder as we lifted windows in and out of the holes. Yes, he left me standing there balancing one while he went off to look for the dog, who has an annoying habit of wandering off at inopportune times. And a second time – this time precariously clutching the balanced window by its frame from the inside -- while he rummaged through a box looking for his caulk gun and swore. (I swore, too.)

The second incident happened because he realized, after we got the window in place, that we’d forgotten to caulk it. So, after he found his caulk gun, and the caulk, and got them in working order, he held the window from inside by the frame, while I ran outside, and tottered on the ladder balancing the window as he leaned it out from the hole and applied caulk. Then we pushed it back into place and I held it there as he ran outside and climbed the ladder to hold it there, while I climbed down and ran back inside to hold onto it while he nailed it into place.

We could double as a circus act.

But in the end, the windows were installed in the correct locations, and we did not drop them or put them in upside down, and nobody fell off any ladders. Yay, us.

He also has started installing the wiring. So far, this looks less like progress than a mess: there are blue plastic boxes nailed to the walls and ceilings at intervals, and wires that you aren’t supposed to step on lying all over the floor. But it has to get done before the insulation can be installed.

We also tested the sewer pipes (no leaks! Hooray!), and ordered our stove and refrigerator. This is quite an exciting development. Also kind of an unfortunate one, because we aren’t actually going to be ready for them for some time. But we didn’t want to miss out on a good sale price.

That was an adventure of its own.

I’d been watching the prices for weeks, and they had both been on sale for ten percent off, which was still quite a bit more than we wanted to pay. There were no indications it was going to go any lower. But on Memorial Day weekend, a big appliance store put a notice on its website that you had to call to find out the price, for both the fridge and the stove. This usually indicates a special price deal. It said that for two stove colors; slate and black stainless steel. Neither was a color I was longing for but I didn’t really care; so long as the price was good, I’d be fine with avocado green. Actually, I kind of like avocado green appliances. Must be a side effect of having grown up in the 70s.

The fridge only comes in a weird painted platinum, but we didn’t care about that, either. DH is going to build it a nice insulated wooden cabinet. The stove color we’ll have to live with, but we can do that.

So I called, first about the fridge.

“We only had one, and it sold,” the salesman said.

“Oh,” I said.

There was a pause. Then he added, “but it could be ordered.” For the same price as the one that had sold, he told me; $170 lower than the price I’d been watching.

“How long is that good for?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Well, alrighty then. I hung up to await consultation with DH, who was out running errands. But in the meantime, I found the stove page, and instructions to call for those prices. So I did, and got a different salesman. He quoted me a price that was $300 lower than the one I’d been watching. Much excitement ensued.

We consulted, and then I called another store we preferred, and after a few hours got a previous salesman we had liked, but he said he couldn’t match the price. So I began trying to reconnect with salesman number two. This also took some hours. Eventually, I got annoyed and talked to a different one, who quoted me a higher price. I expressed frustration, which magically resulted in finally getting connected with the salesman I’d been trying to reach all afternoon.

He agreed with the stove price he’d earlier quoted me, although he claimed to have made a mistake about the color available; now it was only available at that price in stainless steel. Fine, I said.

Next he said he couldn’t give me the refrigerator price I’d been quoted by salesman number one, whose name I had neglected to collect. Instead, he offered it for $19 less than the price I’d been watching. I did not like that price. He decided he could drop it to $70 less.

DH also got him to agree to waive the delivery charge. Happiness.

Shortly afterward, the salesman called back and told me he’d made a mistake and quoted me too low a price on the stove because he’d gotten the model number wrong. I’d given him the correct model number. He said, however, that he was still going to honor it. Well, good.

But we still have to drive all the way to the (far-off) store to complete the transaction. There will be some trepidation until that is done. DH did, however, get him to e-mail a sales agreement, so at least we do have proof.

And so, the adventure continues. As I write these words, it is raining. It has been raining for several days. About a week in, DH noticed that the siding, which is sitting in piles around the house, said on the label, which we possibly should have read, that it’s supposed to be kept dry. Whoops. But, for crying out loud, it’s Siding! Its purpose in life is to sit on the outside of the house and protect it from things like, you know, rain. Does that not mean it should be impervious to rain???

But I am resolutely not thinking about it. It will straighten out when it’s nailed onto the house, right?!

Right.

Catching up

The well, blessedly working

I know, I know, I've been delinquent in the blog posting. So, let me catch you up on the latest joys of our homesteading adventure.

1. Yellow jackets have been congregating in the porta potty. I don't know why; haven't been able to detect any signs of nest-building. They just sit there, mostly. And sometimes, walk over the top edge of the overhang above the door to peer down at you as you proceed with your business.

They have not, thank goodness and knock-on-wood, so far been aggressive. This weekend, on two occasions, one began flying around banging into walls, and I held open the door until she left. After that, I didn't see any, and I devoutly hope they have decided to vacate the premises. It's discomfiting, being stared at by yellow jackets while you're engaged in such private – not to say vulnerable – business.

2. Speaking of shit shows, Sunday was one. First, we burned out the well control box while trying to water my plants. We did not know whether it was the control box or the well pump (i.e. thousands of dollars), until Monday, when DH bought a new well control box and plugged it in. Whew.

Incidentally, the man who sold it to him tried to talk him out of it, insisting the box looked fine to him. It did look fine. It just didn't run the well. No matter what his testing doohickey said.

Anyway, next we knocked over a barrel containing about 25 gallons of water I was counting on to water the plants, since we couldn't use the well, and the temperatures are supposed to climb into the 80s this week.

Then the terrier rolled in a half-decomposed dead snake. In case you don't already know this, dead snake really, really stinks. We decided to sacrifice some of our water to bathe him, and after two latherings and rinsings, he still wasn't entirely de-stinked. Fortunately, most of the remaining smell came off on the towel we used to dry him. And my clothes. We tied them in a trash bag, to await the next trip to the laundromat. The terrier is now very, very clean. At least until his next adventure.

3. Progress continues on the house, with plumbing being installed at the moment. It was scheduled for completion on Sunday, but was delayed by the above adventures.

On Saturday, we worked under the house, using a 500-degree iron to melt the ends of polypropelene pipe and stick them together. My job was to hold the iron.

There isn't a lot of room under the house, so it was close enough to my face that I could feel the heat, bringing back memories of childhood curling iron trauma. I remember perfectly well how it feels to have a hot curling iron accidentally pressed against one's temple by a careless user, and could have done just fine without the reminder. However, things proceeded smoothly, although I'm not really looking forward to the next round. That was cold water; next we tackle the hot water pipes.

In the meantime, on Sunday, DH realized that, although he had followed the instructions to the letter, the inside edges of the pipes had on some occasions curled inward, causing a restriction in the pipe. We had “welded” about 30 feet of pipe; there's no way to know which, if any, of the joints contain this problem.

Oddly, this did not improve his mood.

On the bright side, at least he had used a larger size pipe than needed, so, we are keeping fingers crossed that even if some of it did get narrowed down, it won't matter.

4. He also discovered that the place we had intended to put the water heater won't work. It is, to quote him, “agin the law.”

We planned to put it in the closet of the spare bedroom; a slightly odd location, admittedly, but the closet had originally been intended to serve the bathroom, as a laundry closet. Then we decided that having the washer and dryer stacked in a tiny closet sounded like a pain in the neck, so we moved them into the pantry, and re-allocated the closet to the bedroom.

But in its laundry phase, it also had seemed like the logical spot for the water heater.

However, we plan to install a tankless on-demand heater, and it turns out that you can't put them in a closet, or any other restricted space, because of fire risk. Or in the bathroom, which would be the next most logical spot.

Which is just a fine pickle. Since you can't hide the thing behind some attractive paneling, it has to sit right out in the open. I doubt he'd be amused if I suggested painting a mural on it.

But, hey, I made a gigantic batch of stir-fry last night, on the assumption that having leftovers is a good way to minimize dish use, so supper is taken care of. And there are still some biscuits and strawberries left for shortcake.

For a special treat, I even bought whipping cream and put lactase drops in it, so I could have some.

Last night, when I was distracted getting DH a second helping of shortcake (so he wouldn't have to move, the terrier being asleep in his lap after his bath ordeal), the cat climbed up and polished off the rest of my serving, because, whipped cream. I tell you, it's a friggin' conspiracy.

Sigh. Onward.