It surprises me when I’m asked, “WHERE IS YOUR BLOG?” I can’t get over how much people read these ramblings. I’m not sure how to answer when it comes to whereabouts inquiries. Let’s take a day in June for starters.
Huge storms rolled through one Tuesday night. My brain heard each thunder clap and yelled, “Oh, noooooo! Don’t wake The Child!” So it wasn’t the thunder that woke me. It was the fear of the not-sleeping child not sleeping. But The Child slept through until the boom that preceded the power outage. He stirred, and realized his night light was out. He. Was. Terrified. Luckily, I am married to someone who keeps flashlights and camping light doo-dads around. We were able to light up our 5:00 a.m. lives. But we weren’t able to re-slumber The Child.
We also unplugged the sump pump. (No, we don’t have a battery back-up. That fits. Shut up.) Unplugging was important. We felt smart. Why? We’ve had one other power outage, for planned service work. Because we’d had warning from the power company, we’d dutifully turned off power strips, and put necessary fridge things in a cooler. We learned soon after the power came back on (as 2,300 feet of snow melted in a freakish fit of sunny) that our particular sump pump is: a) An amazing workhorse; b) Minus a part notorious for burning out with electrical surges. With the help of a superhero friend in the middle of the afternoon, The Google, YouTube, Amazon, and Hydromatic sump pump’s amazing customer service, we were able to order a new part for merely (cough) $70 instead of $MuchMore for an entirely new sump pump.
Back to power outage #2. There we were eating breakfast by lantern. At noon, a company was scheduled to replace four of our windows. Between the storm and the power sh*t storm, I wasn’t sure the windows would happen. But I was sure there was an animal scratching in our attic. I guess the trapper who came earlier this month didn’t take care of the problem.
After the Swedelock went to work, I left a message with our window people, charging my (of course I had let it run down) phone in the car. Moments later we had power, and a break in the weather. I called back to say, “Game on.” I plugged back in the sump pump. I began charging all the things. And making all the food. I wasn’t sure how long the power would be with us.
The three guys who came to install our Pella windows won. They are the winners of windows and beyond. Boss man wins at communication and people management. Retiree man with the waxed handlebar mustache wins at everything. Clearly. Apprentice guy (who turns out to be retiree’s grandson) wins for taking on a trade with a super-smart, talented crew. They do not win at controlling weather, however. Hail chased them away when they were halfway through.
Did I mention we were having windows installed with an under-slept child in the house? Including the windows in his room that neither opened nor completely closed?
The crew’s plan was to return in an hourish, when the storm was to break again. The Child and I put on rain boots and splashed the heck out of some puddles. I pulled some weeds as therapy. We took a shower. Ahhh.
As I was drying off, it occurred to me I hadn’t heard the sump pump in a while. The storm had stopped again. The crew came back. My father called, and I swore at him for 15 minutes about my sump pump not working. Then the sump pump went on a couple times.
Then, of course, the back porch revealed a leak. It’s like the little sister leak to the one in the basement. The one that comes because some genius previous owner drilled a cabinet into the wall. And it went well. Until the water table rose just high enough. Man, the discovery of that basement leak is epic. But who has time to write about it?
The most important reason that the window crew finish quickly is that whiskey had to be poured straight into my gullet. The windows are, I’m sure, fine. Anything is better than the icicle family that lived between the panes of the old ones. Or the ice that built up inside our living room. The attic scratching stopped, which means the animal(s) quickly roasted. We’ll deal with their replacements ( I hear them now) soon. I may or may not write about it. We’ll be on to the next thing.