Got around to calling the well guy today. Your well is due an inspection every two years, turns out. I’m only a few weeks behind. We had them out to do the inspect in 2023, and not a minute too soon. The old one was about to rust out and explode. What had started as a well inspection appointment grew a bit alarming for me in the days running up to the actual visit. When the crew got here the guy said I could replace the tank now, or wait until it exploded, which would, he said, be soon.
Thanks for the options, pal.
The guy had a new one right there on the truck. These, he assured me, are much better. Fiberglass never rusts. Well sign me up, and keep the water off my floor. And you might think this sounds like a very sophisticated confidence game from the well guy, but the rust that was everywhere looked plenty authentic.
Anyway, time marches on. The well provides water. Many showers were enjoyed, dishes washed, water bowls filled, etc. Everything behaves more or less as it should. We are pleased with this sequence of events. We made the right choice in replacing it that November day.
But now I have to call to set up that inspection. Because they don’t have a service calling to remind people, which seems like an opportunity lost, if you ask me. Also, the water running through our house is making an odd noise just now, which seems like the beginning of a problem, if you ask me. Also, as I noticed this morning when I went down to the well to verify I had the right phone number, I noticed that there was suddenly an error code on the water softener device. Error 102, which I’ve since looked up, could mean any number of things.
So I called the guy.
And he’s a genial fellow. He is also slammed because of the snowpacolypse rolling in this weekend, and can we schedule something next week?
Sure, I say, but first you have to convince me that these problems I’m telling you about aren’t going to do me in between now and then. He assures me with the practiced, steady tone of a man who’s been dealing with all of this for too long.
And what he’s dealing with here is that fiberglass tank. He said he bought a bunch of those. All but two of them went back to the manufacturer, because they’re krep. Guess who has one of the two. The guy said he’s taken it in the teeth on these things, and he’s going to again. This is under warranty.
He tells me we can live our lives for a few more days and nothing we’ll go wrong and I guess we’ll see. He’s getting another phone call as soon as the roads clear.
I had a checkup at the dermatologist late this morning. Good thing I took all of my skin with me. This was a simple follow-up after they carved a little piece of my back off last fall. I think it took longer for me to take off and put on clothes again than the whole of the appointment.
I got the once over, under a flashlight. He froze one little mark off my shin. It’s nothing, probably stays a nothing, but just in case. Would that all of life’s problems could be dispatched so quickly. But if you can avoid getting that frozen spray in life, do that. That stayed with me for most of the afternoon.
Turns out they left a sliver’s worth of stitching in the skin on my shoulder The assistant tweezed that out before I even realized she was back there.
I set up another appointment for the summer. Because of the spot they took off last fall they want me back every six months to study my alabaster skin. The doctor would not commit to how long we’ll be running at this pace. You’d get the sense from talking with them that being dismissive of it all is SOP.
Guess what conversation we’ll be having with them at my July appointment.
My lovely bride and I then had a nice lunch date. We enjoyed a few minutes of not doing other things at Chick-fil-A. It seems a good prescriptive. I’m glad I thought of it.
Since we were there, we stopped at Lowe’s. I picked up some 4SL 5W-30 oil for the snow blower. “Everyone’s getting ready,” said the woman who was working in the outdoors section.
I thought she could put that perfunctory cheer away, put a little panic in her voice, and help goose this week’s sales figures.
We cruised the light fixture aisle, because that’s what one does when one goes to a place with many fixtures and bulbs, but one also did not think to bring the TWO different specialty bulbs (for comparison) that need replacing. Then we went to the tool section. Brad nails, if you please. And hey, since I’m here, a few new fine-toothed jig saw blades.
One impulse purchase isn’t terribly impulsive, particularly if it A.) won’t spoil and B.) you have an eventual need for it’s use. (Just as soon as the weather turns.)
Then we headed to campus for a late afternoon faculty meeting. While working in the office, I received this email.
I wondered How far from the base of the building can I fling my computer? A good way, I’d imagine. My office is on the 6th floor.
Look, it’s one thing for young people and/or whining adults to mangle the language, turning an adjective into a present participle, but I am going to demand a little more from the marketing whizzes hired by the health system.
And don’t think I won’t bring that up to them, the next time I go to see my doctor and run into the direct mail tech team.
At our faculty meeting, well, faculty met. Things were discussed. Successes celebrated, grievances distributed. New policies were announced.
Then at home, in the driveway, I just missed the sunset, and the Canada geese.
Oh, they honk and they honk, they can’t help themselves. But while you can discern the direction, at that time of night you can’t get everything to work just right, camera-wise. I have a cool blurry one though, if anyone is interested.
I decided to take an FTP test. Your classic functional threshold power test, a ramp test, is a way to gauge your current level of fitness. I don’t really need to take this because my current level is: unfit. On a ramp test, and this is oh-so-interesting, you add power every minute and keep riding until you can’t. I sat up a bit early, I could have done more, maybe a little bit more, but I wanted to also cover some casual miles. Besides, this test showed an increase of 15 percent in my recent FTP.
I was riding somewhere in Norway.
Not very well, mind you, because, again, see above, unfit. But a January baseline is established. And now I can ride and see if it will improve.
And then I did the 10 miles or so around Plum Island, Massachusetts. Wikipedia:
The island is named for the wild beach plum shrubs that grow on its dunes, but is also famous for the purple sands at high tide, which derive their color from tiny crystals of pink pyrope garnet.
And it all sounds lovely. Looks it, too!
A bit farther down the Wikipedia page, there’s a list of beach and dune pests. And while, just a moment ago I wanted to go to northeaster Massachusetts and see this barrier island, I have now realized that things are so bad that each of these have subheadings on Wikipedia: Greenhead flies, ticks, mosquitoes, poison ivy.
That same place on the island, on Google Maps.
Want to see where I was on the FTP test? Somewhere just outside of Hjelle.
My avatar is riding in the Strynefjellet Mountains:
Here you will find a true wilderness, inhabited only by birds and animals adapted to an arctic climate, perhaps a predator in search of prey, a wild reindeer, a golden eagle, or sheep in summer pastures. Here there is plenty of space – and plenty of time. Change down to a lower gear and head into the mountains.
You think, “Norway in January, brr and no thank you.” Their weekend forecast and mine is about the same temperature. We’re expecting all of that snow — or maybe some of it, truly, no one knows, because who needs robust weather forecasting capabilities in the 21st century? — but in the Strynefjellet Mountains, they are under a Yellow Warning for Avalanches. I clicked that, and I am left to conclude that this is so commonplace that they don’t even include details. The blurb basically says, Don’t do it if you don’t have experience.
Not to worry, Norway, not to worry.
