And another damn thing

So that was fun. Brought to you by the department of, if it's not one damn thing it's another: Home building is on temporary hiatus while the homebuilder-in-chief recovers from surgery to fix a detached retina. What happened? Nothing. Apparently that's just of those things that can happen with age. Awesome. 'Cause there weren't enough of those to worry about. He's on chair rest for a week, and I made the doctor say it twice, just to make sure it sank in. Good times .... and how was your Monday?

Copper, more precious than ... alulminum, and harder to find

The last time we met here, in thunder and in rain, we were arguing over who misplaced the damn eye of newt and -- oops, wrong group.

Last time we met here to discuss the progress of the house, I was explaining that the wiring was in progress. That was in early June, the Year of Our Lord two thousand and 19.

To be fair, it is still 2019.

'Though I have been assured weekly that just another few days would see the wiring done, the wiring is not done. But on the bright side, new complications have cropped up to slow matters down.

There is, it seems, a particularly large electrical wire that enters the house, for some purpose I failed to pay attention to when DH was explaining it. I think it's the one that connects the wire from the transformer to the wires inside the house. The material used for this wire is usually aluminum, but aluminum is not actually great for the purpose; it can corrode, it can work its way loose, there are various other issues, which is why its use is gradually being phased out.

It also is very large and therefore very hard to bend, and it needs to make a 90 degree bend.

What you should use, the books -- books, plural -- assured DH, is copper. Which is smaller than aluminum and hence more bendable, and also does not have aluminum's other attendant problems, and therefore seems like a most sensible option. So off he went to the electrical store, to pick up some copper electrical wire, after checking online to be sure they had it.

"We don't carry that," they said.

"But it's on your website."

"Huh. Dunno. We don't carry that. Nobody uses copper. It's crazy expensive."

"But I only need 12 feet."

"Oh. Well, I guess that wouldn't be expensive. But we don't carry it."

So he went home and checked the website, which said they carry it, and called headquarters.

"We don't carry that," they said.

"But it's on your website."

"Huh. Dunno. We don't carry it. Nobody uses copper."

And so it went. I don't know if he's located a source for it yet.

There still remains no progress on the fire sprinklers either; we begin to think they may have to be a retro fit. Maybe we'll just hang a few garden hoses from the ceiling.

Meanwhile, the stove and refrigerator have arrived, which is exciting, and because there is no mouse-proof place to put them, are sitting around in a cargo unit exposed to mice, who can apparently get through anything, which is exciting in an entirely different way. My brand new appliances! I visit them sometimes, and pet them and dream wistfully of being able to use them. DH sets live traps to remove the mice, which he relocates to the woods, away from the cargo unit. Near the house. He only caught two, and then no more. Maybe there were only two ???

Looking back

In early 2018, I wrote the following account of life on the upland prairie.

A year and a half has passed since those halcyon days, and while the outdoors continues to enchant, the trailer assuredly does not.

It is, of course, quite livable, if one does not mind tiny house living.

I have concluded that I do mind tiny house living.

Early summer is easier; the absence of mud and howling gales, and generators, wonderfully improves the spirits. There are baby quail to be glimpsed now and again, and spotted fawns making their appearance. The buzzards have returned to play in the wind currants, and tiny brown rabbits hide in the hedgerows, while robins sit boldly around the garden and in the fields. It is charming. We have a garden, at last, and a table filled with thriving seedlings waiting to be transferred to the garden. We have hopes of a harvest. Life is good.

The solar panels have been a godsend, and in summer, we use the generator in two-minute bursts, when we want to turn the blender on for the making of filbert milk. It is quite satisfying to live primarily on solar power. 
We never did get the drawers sorted out. However, I eventually grew weary of living on convenience food and re-commenced cooking, so there are more dishes to wash, but better food.

We also have become acquainted, and better, friends with, some of our neighbors; lovely people all, who make us feel as though we moved to a strange place and found ourselves home. Such a wonderful surprise.

Still I yearn for the house to be finished at last, to live in a space where there is, in fact, space, to move about and past each other, without edging sideways, and where every object has its proper place, located somewhere other than the middle of the living room.

Someday, this vision of heaven shall come to pass.

Meanwhile, enjoy this glimpse into our first winter.

Despite the accusations certain persons have leveled against me, of dragging the family into the wilderness to live in the center of the Vortex, things in the trailer are not as bad as expected.

Really, it's quite comfortable, despite the nearly non-stop rocking from the ever-present wind, and the over-abundance of mud. Exercise may be obtained at any time, by tracking down any items the wind has re-located to other areas of the property, or retrieving the dog when he ignores one's calls to come in.

Showers are less luxurious than one might wish for, of course, as we must be miserly with water, and the shower stall is approximately two feet by three feet, but then, one cannot have everything, and after the first two weeks, the presence of any running water seems a godsend.

We enjoy a lovely night-time walk every evening when we take the dog out to do any final business, and to refill the generator for the night. There are stars up here like we haven't seen in years, due to the lack of even small-town light pollution. And the lights from the trailer windows glow like a beacon as we cling to each other, fighting our way back to it through the driving wind and rain like characters from a B-grade Western.

It's easy to know when the generator needs refilling, because all of the power and lights abruptly go out, making it a simple matter of locating a working flashlight by feel, and going out to refill the thing. There are an amazing number of non-working flashlights littering the trailer.

If one holds the flashlight cord between one's teeth and leans over to shine the light into the gas tank, it can even be done by one person with relative ease – if one doesn't mind dripping the occasional bit of drool into the gas tank.

There is the downsizing aspect to get used to, of course. Our house was not a large one, but it was considerably larger than a travel trailer. The kitchen workspace is every bit as limited as expected. Or more so. No complicated cooking is taking place, to say the least. But that's just as well, because one has to be careful not to use too much water for washing dishes, lest one run the holding tank dry. To help matters in that department, we simplified by bringing a very limited number of dishes along, which greatly limits our ability to entertain.

To aid in the general prairie ambiance, we have started have a crock of sourdough working on the counter, ready for whipping up a batch of biscuits or hotcakes at a moment's notice. This has led to the rather frustrating discovery that gas stoves are terrible for cooking pancakes, unless you inefficiently cook them a single pancake at a time in the exact center of the pan, or more pragmatically decide to embrace a zen mindset and be content with wildly-uneven browning.

There's still no place to put many things, which continues to be a frustration, as anything that doesn't have a home gets continually tripped over in the six square feet of living room space. Some things, of course, have to live there, such as the ubiquitous and always-dirty dog towel, to remove the pounds of mud he accumulates every time he goes outside.

The canine in question is a terrier who has moved to a dog's idea of heaven – a farm where he can dig to his furry little heart's content. For the first couple of weeks, he dug nonstop every day for hours, until we made him come indoors for the night. Eventually, he must have either gotten it out of his system, or gotten sore muscles, because he has since slacked off – although not before creating a landmine of foot-sized holes to fall into all over the landscape, thus encouraging mindfulness and attention to one's surroundings while walking.

Since he uses his teeth to help pull out stubborn chunks of grass and dirt, it is necessary to de-mud his mouth every time he comes in – preferably before bringing him inside -- because otherwise he sits around spitting little chunks mud on the floor until he clears it himself. I really cannot imagine why the builders of travel trailers insist on carpeting them.

There are, of course, mice in this rural location, and since the demise of the first bold one at the paws of the cat, they have, unfortunately, been clever enough to remain in areas where neither the cat nor the dog can get to. From these areas, they can easily access clothing and storage drawers. As we have wearied of being unable to use most of the drawers, the husband of the house has been assigned to obtain sheets of plexiglass to make covers for them, in hopes of rendering them usable. This, one hopes, ought to help reduce general clutter. He is also supposed to be in charge of locating all mouse-sized holes in the structure and caulking them.

He may first, however, need to recover from the mild head injuries incurred by daily banging his head on the lowered ceiling area around the sides of the living room. It is not always an advantage to be tall.

It is also not always an advantage to be short, as this necessitates needing a ladder for the simplest of activities, such as getting anything out of a cupboard, or breaking in through a window at need.

Fortunately, I suppose, we balance each other out in this respect, and, no doubt, will come to constitute quite an efficient working partnership.

Recently, we have procured photovoltaic panels to provide electricity in place of the generator, and are greatly looking forward to enjoying the peace of the countryside in actual peace and quiet.

All the devilish details

The house work continues: wiring, mostly, and some plumbing.

Wiring is kinda fun (for me, since I am not the one who had to figure out where all of the wires need to go. I just help shove it through holes in the wall. D.H. had the headache of actually figuring out the details, but he seems to enjoy that sort of thing). However, he has sore shoulders, because he has to keep holding the drill above his head to drill holes through the ceiling joists to put the wires through.

The drill is a massive, heavy thing, but it drills holes beautifully. Since there are some places where it had to drill through four two-by-fours set together, it needed to be quite a powerful device, and despite the weight, D.H. has been blessing it, and his foresight in acquiring it. He has also inquired whether I really need lights in the closets. Yes. Any other questions?

The water heater is now installed, but there are several gadget-y things that need to be ordered so they can be wired in: A ceiling fan, bathroom fan, smoke detectors, etc. The damn fire sprinklers (which require plumbing, not wiring), but nonetheless, they need to go in asap. Which may be a problem.

Last time D.H. called the man to get started on designing the sprinkler system, he said someone (???) had accidentally wiped his hard drive, and he'd get back to us when he could.

This is not reassuring. How does one accidentally wipe a hard drive?

Meanwhile, I commenced researching smoke detectors, which also was not reassuring. Last night, I ranted to D.H. about the apparently poor quality of all modern smoke detectors. This morning, our smoke detector went off for no apparent reason at 6 a.m.. D.H. said it heard me bad-mouthing its kind.

I told you they're lousy.

One improvement, however, is that you can now buy ones that shout "Fire!!" at you, instead of that infernal beeping which has permanently traumatized the terrier. I want that kind. D.H. is proving recalcitrant (he says hearing a strange voice shouting "fire," in the middle of the night sounds pretty traumatizing to him. I say having a fire in the middle of the night -- or any other time -- would be pretty damn traumatizing, and being beeped at would not improve my ability to concentrate on what to do about it). But then, he's recalcitrant by nature, so we'll see.

 If I (and the terrier) never have to hear another damn ear-splitting beep, it will be too soon. The one in the trailer is mounted right by the stove and goes off every time something browns in a frying pan. We've devoted hours to perfecting the art of preventing it from going off. D.H. also suggests that not mounting the smoke alarm next to the stove seems a sensible way to help prevent false alarms.

I also want the kind that you can shout "Shut! Up!" at, to silence, instead of abandoning your burning onions (thus risking an actual fire), to run locate the mute button. And a step ladder, if you, ahem, are short. Apparently, there is such a thing as a voice command detector, although I don't know if you get to program in the exact silencing command.

And yes, of course I talk to (and rudely shout at) my household installations; doesn't everyone?

As to what to Do about this hypothetical fire ... well, the usual thing is to have ladders attached to the sills of the upper windows that you toss out and climb down. This strikes both of us as a dubious prospect. Especially when we're half asleep and trying to climb down what seems an immense height, while clutching squirmy, unhappy dogs and cats. A slide has been proposed, but that does seem a tad ... impractical. See, this is why we need those damn fire sprinklers.

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.

Gift-wrapped house

This post is overdue, but I can't seem to find brainspace to write. But, we have a roof now, and windows! Most exciting. Now DH is busy plumbing in the fixtures.
Here's a picture:

The weird bright yellow is the house wrap. Odd plastic stuff that's supposed to protect it from the elements until you get the siding up. Not quite finished, as you see, but that last part is waaaay up there where only swallows want to venture. Until we got the windows in, the swallows were venturing inside the upstairs windows, while wrens were checking out the downstairs. I'm pretty sure the swallows have been scoping out the eaves for nest potential. Kind of awesome, but it would be nice if they could hold off until the siding and painting are done.

Meanwhile, we've been exploring appliances: An induction stove, because they're supposed to be much more efficient, since only the pots heat, not the stove, and a small refrigerator, because having a big one just leads us to waste food, and thus electricity. I have been annoyed to find that the 13.5 cubic foot one I want costs more than I could buy a full-size one for a family of four, for. That's ridiculous. Hoping to find it for less in the scratch and dent department.