I am not a fishing fan, but these are good.
Specially the way the links look like the Predator...
I've just gutted my entire house, right down to the studs, and am slowly rebuilding it. After months of nothing but demolition, I'm finally starting to reverse the process. My bathroom contractor is working today to get ready for my tile guy. The insulation guy worked yesterday, so the house is nice and cozy now. (Right, except that I have to put the windows back in.) On Tuesday, the sheetrock guy comes to start putting my ceilings and walls back.
Just as soon as I wrap up my work in the attic: 2 more ceiling joists to sister, one more ceiling fan mount to install, plus 3 more fixture mounts for other lights. I'd planned to sister all the 5 ceiling joists that need it this weekend, but Tuesday I created a little emergency. While trying to rip out a piece of planking in the wall that had bowed and split--thereby preventing the sheetrock from being flush--I discovered that two of my ceiling joists were actually resting on that plank, instead of on the exterior load-bearing wall. The reason? when the foundation failed in the 40s that wall bowed out about three inches, and the joists slipped off it.
Which is how I broke my nose. With all that weight on the plank, it was under a lot of pressure, so when I finally managed to pry it off the studs, it came loose at high speed and whacked me in the face. I blacked out for about a second, before that little quiet voice in the back of my head kicked in. You know, the little voice that whispers, "Maybe you shouldn't take that short cut," and "Get up and check the door." My little voice said, "Don't fall off the ladder."
I didn't. I managed to get myself down the ladder, my head ringing, and my dust mask filling up with blood. As I was just starting to wonder how badly I'd fucked myself up, I heard this soft groaning sound and looked up. Above me, the ceiling was sagging about three inches. Not terrible, but likely to become so.
This was at about 8 pm, and who was I going to call for help? Sure, 911 would take care of my face, but they wouldn't do anything about my ceiling joists. So I went out to my truck, grabbed the jack, and a couple of 2 x 4's on my way back through the garage. I slapped one 2 x 4 up to the ceiling with a pair of screws (thank you, trusty cordless drill), wedged the other one up under it, balanced on top of the jack, and cranked the ceiling back up to the proper height. Contrary to my expectations, it worked perfectly. After all, that little jack was designed to lift one quarter of my truck, so it was strong enough to lift one tenth of my ceiling.
Then I could worry about my nose. Luckily I still have a kitchen sink, so I went it and pulled the dust mask off. Blood, lots of it. I washed off a bunch of it, but I didn't have a mirror, so I couldn't really see what the damage was. I had half a bag of ice in the freezer, so I grabbed that, stuck it on my face and drove to my temporary digs.
I kept the ice on it for about five hours, and that seems to have done the trick. I have a bump, a bruise, and my eyes are a little black, but my nose is straight. I'm pretty sure it's broken, because I can feel it wiggle when I laugh, and my eyebrows actually hurt.
Episode 2 was me calling into work sick the next morning. Only I didn't stay home. I couldn't. I went to the house and crawled up in the attic to sister in the three joists that just couldn't wait for this weekend. Then I had to repair and replace the plank I'd originally been intending to fix when it bitch slapped me. I won the rematch.
Trouble has have moved into our house, and I need to know how to get it to move out!
Things you do not want a telephoning child to say - We have a problem. How do we turn off the water?
Things you do not want to find when you arrive home - Water pouring from the light fittings, the ceilings in general, flooding on the floor, discovering some of this water is hot.
Things it is quite nice to find when you get home - your three male children have managed to deal with a crisis without making it worse. And the dinner wasn't ruined either.
The boys were cooking dinner and went into the garden for a cigarette (as they are not allowed to smoke in the house). They took Heidi out, smoked their ciggies and chatted. 10 minutes, 15 max. When they got in, it was raining. Inside.
The massive leak was caused by a joint going in the piping from our hot water tank (middle floor bathroom) to our shower (top floor bathroom). Unfortunately for us, that water gets from A to B using a substantial pump. So it pumped and it pumped and it pumped.
The lads got the water turned off, having to move all Husband's quite heavy diving cylinders out of the way, they got towels and receptacles under leaks, they turned the dinner down so it didn't burn and they turned the lights off.
So, right now these are the things we do not have:
No lights downstairs - somehow, the light fittings did not appreciate water dripping flooding rushing over them.
No hot water to our lovely en-suite shower - but we do have cold, so the toilet flushes and we can clean our teeth (and sleep commando!)
No Internet - our hub was in the under-stairs cupboard, directly under the leak.
We need to decorate quite intensively - the stairwells, the under-stairs cupboard, downstairs toilet, computer room, hall, and dining room all suffered varying degrees of dampness, resulting in varying degrees of paper falling off and damage to the plaster.
Ah well, on Friday we find out how much of this our insurance will cover. Fingers crossed for us, please.
It's a bright Autumn morning in the small town of Chester's Mill. Claudette Sanders is having a flying lesson and Dale Barbara is hitching a ride out of town. Neither make it to their destination...
Inexplicably, an invisible barrier had descended over the town. a woodchuck is chopped right in half; a gardener's hand is severed at the wrist; the plane explodes and Dale Barbara, Iraq war vet turned short-order cook, is forced to turn back into the town he so desperately needed to leave
As the residents speculate about what has cut them off from the rest of the world, the Army searches for an inside man. "Barbie" is put in charge. But Big Jim Rennie, the mad who holds the town in his powerful grip, has other plans. And the Dome could just be the answer to his political prayers.
As food, electricity and water run short and children start to have premonitions of a terrifying Halloween, Barbie is forced to take on Big Jim, and his renegade supporters. Now time is running out for those under the Dome. Can they find out what has created in before it's too late?
Stephen King's mesmerizing new masterpiece - his biggest, most riveting novel since The Stand - features spectacularly sinister characters and a terrifying phenomenon. Under the Dome is a high-octane thriller, an apocalyptic vision and a fascinating allegory on a tyrannical state of political darkness.
Loved it. It is mesmerizing, it is big and, after an initial hiccup a little way in, it is riveting. The speed of moral decay is frightening and the division between Law and Order scary beyond measure. Buy it. Borrow it from the library or a friend (I'm in Harrow, if you wanna borrow my copy) - whatever. Just read it. It is good.
Welcome to the House of Dying Appliances.
Dishwasher -
Dead and gone. Sadly, not actually gone - still waiting for the delivery of new Dishwasher and collection of old Dishwasher. This should have happened Saturday, but we have heard nothing. I hate Currys!
It died last week, so I have had a whole week of washing up for six people. Bugger that - now I remember exactly why I got a Dishwasher in the first place.
Fridge-Freezer -
As you know, this is not that old. So when the fan started making a terrible, grating whirring sound, we were worried. Fortunately this is still under Manufacturer's Warranty, so we just had to make a calll. Simple - well, no. Because my life does not suck enough. I phoned the Repair Line, told the nice lady all about my troubles, she said "OK I will put you through direct to the manufacturer's Repair Centre". But she screwed that up, and put me through to the Parts Department. No, I want an Engineer. So I call the Repair Line again, only to be told the computers had crashed, and to phone back later.
So I did. And the lady at LG said "What is the serial number of your fridge?"
Well, I do not know that.
"It will be on the left hand side" she said.
So I looked, and looked, and looked. And failed to find it.
"Well, I am very sorry", she said, "I must have that before I can book an Engineer Visit."
I was gutted. Than I liooked again and thought "Fuck - mayber I should get Left and Right tattooed on my hand"
That was on Thursday. All is good now - the man cam this morning and fixed the fan. Verdict - don't put so much in your freezer that air cannot circulate. Whoops! OK, I will be more careful in future.
Washing Machine -
This died Saturday morning, just as I put a load in. And we do all the washing for the six of us on Saturday / Sunday / Monday due to working the rest of the time. So I phoned my Washing Machine Repair Man, who said he should be able to do it Monday but he is having an operation on Tuesday. So I am waiting to hear from him. Fingers Crossed!
We had a shitload of washing - siz bags, and one laundry basket. I spent three hours at the laundrette (and may I say thank goodness for laundrettes!). It was so freaking BUSY in there, and hot. And expensive!
Vacuum Cleaner -
We bought this, and it was crap. You need training to use it properly and if I get the kids to vac, they break the band that turns the beater, so it stops being any good for pet hair. I finally said I must have a new one, when it, too, died. What is it with this house this past few weeks? Luckily, someone we know runs a business selling and maintaining professional vacuums (for hotels, conference centres, anywhere they use lots of cleaners and need them to be ready to use at all times). So he is selling us one, cheap, and we get it later today.
I hope the Appliance Killing Field leaves the area soon.
This book is - disappointing. The premise - that the world blacks out, millions die, and most people who don't die have a vision of the future - is good. The visions are true ones, can be collaborated, checked and include such wonders as flying cars. But (I betcha knew a but was coming) it fails in the execution. Mostly average, occasionally brilliant and sometimes dire, I would still recommend this.
Just don't expect too much.
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Because I think I bought the wrong size. Or it doesn't match the rest of my decor.
This is me after a day spent in the attic. Yes, I'm wearing a bandanna, goggles, dust mask, and a head lamp. It's fricking dark up there. And eerily quiet. And full of moon dust-like insulation. And pixies. But I wasn't supposed to tell anybody about the pixies.
Oh, right, what was I doing up there? Installing ceiling fan braces. There are few home features I hate more than wobbly or rattly ceiling fans, so I believe in attaching them to serious braces fastened to the studs with heavy deck screws. Also, I love ceiling fans. I'm installing them in the bedroom, the office, the living room, and the kitchen. I'd install one in the dining room, but that just seems like overkill.
To prepare for this adventure, I loaded up my backpack with all the tools I thought I might possibly need for the adventure, including my newly purchased cordless drill. I don't own 200 feet of extension cord, so I figured that would come in handy. I should have taken snacks.
The kitchen was easy. I had to enlarge the hole in the ceiling a bit to accommodate a 4-inch electrical box, which is standard for ceiling fan braces, but the brace went in easily. From there, I crawled to the pantry, where I installed a new electrical box, and ran the wiring to the light switch. Then I schlepped over to the office, dragging all my supplies and my plywood platform with me. (Because squatting on joists for hours at a time is unpleasant, it's better to have somewhere to sit.) Once again, the hole in the ceiling had to be enlarged via drill and hand saw. Then I had to shim one end of the brace to make it level, but it went in easily enough.
After that I slithered over to the bathroom to repair a hole in the ceiling and install a new electrical box. Seeing a trend? Yes, most of the light fixtures in the house had been attached directly to the ceiling without the benefit of a box. While doing that, I realized I'd forgotten a box to install in the hallway. And it was getting dark. And the dining room light fixture opening was in the wrong place. I wasn't going to be able to get it all done in a day.
Still, I was dead-set on getting all the ceiling fan braces installed, so I persevered. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. I crept toward the bedroom, but as I felt about with my foot, digging through layers of blown insulation looking for the next ceiling joist, I found ... nothing. No joist. Not where it should have been anyway. In most modern houses, joists and studs are installed at 18-inch intervals, or sometimes 24-inch intervals. Things are slightly less predictable in old houses. I once lived in a house with 21-inch center studs and joists. How I discovered that, it's a long story.
This house, though, this house ... it mostly has 24-inch centers, except where it doesn't, namely in the bedroom and living room. There, the ceiling joists are 36 inches apart. Too far to install a ceiling fan brace. So I get to plan another day in the attic and this one will be a doozy. I'll have to drag a bunch of lumber up there and sister in some more joists, close enough together to support ceiling fans, and to provide a bit more stability in those ceilings.
Am I starting to regret buying this project house? Oddly enough, no. I'm kind of looking forward to the project. As sick as that is.
So, I've been using my Typepad account instead of VOX, and whenever I come back over this way I have shit loads of spam comments to delete. Surely, VOX, if you delete a spam account, it should automatically delete all of the spam comments they've left as well?
