2014 snowfall number eleventy-billion
21 February 2015
Tom pretty much said it all today.
I slept in. Jack woke up before I did and summoned me downstairs as soon as I managed to get vertical. We were looking at a rivulet moving across the kitchen floor from under the dishwasher. There was no cold water in the kitchen, but things were fine everywhere else.
We live in a split-level house. The ceiling in the laundry room resembles the old Windows screen saver that drew a network of pipes. Everything is indoors, save for about six feet that run in the crawlspace up to the kitchen. From the looks of it, this pipe saw its best days long, long ago. When I touched a bit of brown ooze, my hand got wet.
So there's me on Monday, waiting for the plumbers.
Jack let a trickle of hot water run for a while, and I started a load of laundry. We got our cold water back, eventually, and the river in the kitchen dried up.
I had three tasks today:
First: Yet another 1.5 hour bout on the trainer to keep my endurance up. This is easier than it sounds, as long as one has good music, plenty of sleep in the sleep bank, a good breakfast, and a bathtub or two of coffee.
Second: Complain to Jack and Jim that I never see any FreeWheelers away from our bikes anymore. One begins to spiral into I-have-no-real-friends territory after so many weekends cooped up inside. Hoping to capture the post-ride dinners of C+ days of yore, I have some ideas up my sleeve, thanks to Jim verbally slapping me across the face. Nothing changes unless I change it. Duh.
Third: Finalize the Sierra Club letter to FERC for Wednesday's PennEast scoping hearing (West Trenton Ballroom, 40 W. Upper Ferry Rd., 6:00 p.m.). This took most of the day, which I didn't think would happen, and some help from my favorite policy wonk at PEER. The letter is finished and in for review by my fellow wonks and volunteers. I'll post it here when it's ready. I'm sure you're all dying to read it.
I took a few pictures, too, for no other reason than to post them here.
I meant to fill the bird feeders too, but I forgot.
I'm deliberately messy when I fill them so that the juncos and other ground feeders can get their fair share.
2 comments:
"...thanks to Jim verbally slapping me across the face."
Great. Like my reputation for paternalistic antifeminism isn't bad enough. I'll expect the cops to deliver the assault summons any minute.
Relax. I'm one of the guys.
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