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Disasters and weather

 

August 23, 2016



It’s one of those Murphy’s Law kind of things especially when ya live in the boonies. Life will be rollin’ along with all the bumps and good times that come with it and everything is okay. Twenty degrees reads the thermometer, but there’s plenty of wood, a good fire and the house is cozy.

That’s the time when you go to the sink to fill up the teapot. This is a moment that becomes frozen in time and in the memory of the poor sap that wants some hot tea — no water comes out of the tap. We know, those of us who live in the mountains what this means, generally. And while we don’t have the specifics yet, we hope that the filter at the pump needs changing — a cold but simple task.

All of these thoughts go dead when we walk out on the back deck and are greeted by Old Faithful, except this geyser ain’t goin’ off regular like, it’s just goin’ off. Right as it enters the house, the pipe is cracked and the previous homeowner had built a deck over the plumbing and, did I mention that it’s 20 degrees.

All of this really happened, but these are the days of summer. It’s over 100 degrees outside, but the house remains cool cause we do the ole open and close thing between the cool of night and the heat of day.

Late afternoon and it’s a perfect time to watch some TV or play on the computer. This particular day I chose the computer, which sits right by a window that looks into the laundry room addition.

I began to hallucinate because I knew that my freezer door couldn’t possibly be ajar by 2 inches. The laundry room is not very well insulated so I figure that 109 degrees outside must equal 107 degrees in the little room. I knew beyond a doubt that the door wasn’t ajar because that would mean that everything in the freezer was a goner and that couldn’t be right; could it?

Right and wrong has nothing to do with reality. We instinctively know this, but sometimes it’s nice to live in a fantasy world for a bit. Fantasy ended when I opened the freezer door and discovered that Glacier National Park had moved to my laundry room. This, of course, does not mean that the meat was still frozen; it was in fact fuzzy. One would think this is odd, but the ice had formed around the shelves, which prevented the rest of the freezer from freezing.

The transfer station was closed and would be for the next couple of days. But it didn’t matter because it took two days to get the fuzzy meat loose from the ice. A hair dryer made things go a bit faster, but it also heated up the fuzzy meat; we are talking toxic smells here aided of course by the heat from outside.

What was the final tally? Two hundred pounds of meat hauled to the transfer station and a major question to study on. Do I really need a freezer?

 

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