My friend KT, whom I haven’t seen nor talked to in years (she moved to Oregon and both of us writers, but not diligent correspondents), spent some of her formative time in the Peace Corps in Ethiopia. And at some much later point she introduced me to a saying she had encountered halfway around the world: Slowly by slowly, the egg begins to turn.
Yeah, I don’t know why “by,” or an egg, but it’s a lyric way of reminding one to have some patience, no? Although it may take more than a fun saying to give Lynn succor.
You all, like Lynn, have received no recent house update because there doesn’t appear to be much of one. Update, that is, not house — we have photographic evidence of that.
Last week our well was drilled, and we do have a report on that, although this is nothing that particularly speaks to Lynn, because it’s a pipe in the ground, which isn’t visually exciting. However, Dottie of Williams Drilling seemed rather excited when she brought me the bill Monday. “Dude, your well came in at 80 gallons per minute!” she exclaimed.
She was then sad to report that we are only allowed 15 of those gallons each minute, which in turn saddened me, because of course we have to have a heavier-duty (and thus more expensive) pump to keep the water at bay (as it were). She also saddened me with this news: last week, when she told me how much the constant pressure PID-20 would be, she added in kind of an off-hand way that her company hadn’t received the price list that usually arrives at the first of the year. Well, guess what arrived between that conversation and our bill? An 11 percent increase in price! Isn’t that great?
And I thought this would alleviate the need for a pressure tank, but Dusty, when he called yesterday, said no, he thinks we will still need one. Although he is deferring definitive answers to the vacationing plumber, who I believe is supposed to return March 2, which is tomorrow, so perhaps he is back on the job Monday.
To Lynn’s great frustration, our walk-through with the electrician, which was supposed to have happened early this week, doesn’t take place until next Tuesday. There’s a lot of “hurry up and wait” in house-building. So, a week after we were told to expect it, Lynn and I will meet with Dusty and Shawn, the electrician, to discuss where light switches and outlets will go.
Our draftsman wanted to do this during the drawing phase of the process, but Dusty pulled him off that, saying it makes more sense to do this while walking through the existing house. But this means I haven’t given this an ounce of thought, and I’m sure I’m going to be ambushed on Tuesday. Lynn had dutifully started to follow the draftsman’s instructions, so she’s a bit more prepared. Okay, a lot more prepared.
I did have one friend suggest putting the outlets higher than floor level so as not to have to bend over so far, but when I passed this along to Dusty and Lynn, they were outraged (that’s much too strong a word — perhaps scornful) that I might want to do this. And then last month, yet another friend made this same suggestion. I guess I’ll have to see what the electrician says, and I could point out to Lynn that the outlet she uses in the dining area is three feet up the wall, and this makes it very convenient for her to charge her electronics.
The poor electrician doesn’t know what he’s walking into, either, because Lynn loves loves loves her electronics, including her talking Pringles cans from Amazon. She likes walking into a room and saying (just like Star Trek), “Computer, turn on the living room lights.” And proper Luddite that I am — Star Trek fandom notwithstanding — I refuse to talk to electronics to have them do my bidding. I don’t even want them around, because there have been plenty of stories in the media about all these devices recording conversations. It’s bad enough that I think about something only to have an ad appear on my computer for it shortly thereafter.
If Lynn has her way, the entire house will be wired to operate on the sound of her voice, and if I get mine, everything will be totally analogue, probably old school: switches one flips, rather than presses.
I did tell our draftsman we would need one billion outlets to accommodate our thirsty electronic ways. And one thing I really want is an outside outlet somewhere so I can plug in my heated water dish. The birds really like this amenity at our current location, where we have a lot more fruit-bearing trees (so maybe more birds), although I can’t keep it plugged in, so it’s only a seasonal offering currently. And it does kind of clash with the concept of Marrakesh, noted bird hunter.
Lynn wants an outdoor plug-in where we could easily put up seasonal lights. And we might need one in case we have to plug any cars in, although they are supposed to live in a garage. But I’ve had garages before, and cars have never lived in them, which means it’s good to be prepared. So by the time we’re done, inside and out, it might be two billion outlets.
Dusty also reported yesterday that he’s still waiting to hear if our stucco sample came in. He did ask the company, which is down in Montrose, what happens if we don’t like French Toast (the color, not the food) when we see it live in person. And they said most people use the color cards — didn’t Dusty have one?
I believe Dusty said he has to head that direction next week on a different matter, so he was hoping to be able to pick up the sample, assuming it’s arrived, and perhaps a color card, to bring back with him. It would be nice to be able to see the sample out at the house in assorted lights, before making a final decision.
So we appear to be in a holding pattern for now. As more people learn of our house-building project, which is quite visible from the highway everyone drives, we are getting lots of helpful input from well-meaning “supervisors”: “No one is working at your house.” I suppose I should just provide them, as well as us, with the wisdom of Ethiopia: Slowly by slowly, the egg begins to turn.
It’s still turning, just not very visibly.
Photo above: this looked better on my phone, but here’s evidence of work in the crawlspace, which I still haven’t inspected, sticking into the garage where the boiler will sit. Below: We rented a storage shed. Look at all the stuff I moved there yesterday!
One thought on “Slowly by Slowly”
What did you move, a toothpick?