I’ve got nothing this month. I had nothing last month. There are a couple of reasons.
First (and this will make a short story a whole bunch longer – imagine – Have we met? I do tend to run on, n’est pas?) … er … first, we live in a home that was built in 1964. Shortly after 1964, builders stopped using cast iron pipes for sewers and such.
Cast iron once was thought a wonderful invention. Now we’ve got plastic that lasts longer, costs less and weighs little. I’ve been told that the typical cast iron plumbing used in tract homes in the 1960’s had a live of, maybe, fifty years. Add those fifty years to the year our home was built and, quick as a bunny, you realize that our plumbing needed attention, five years ago.
We’ve been calling a plumber every couple of years for as long as we’ve owned the home – 2010 – to clean out the drains. Most recently, the plumber we called – a very nice young man – cleaned out the kitchen drain and told us, in no uncertain terms, that the cast iron plumbing in our kitchen was about done, and might come apart when next we had our drains cleaned.
We had planned on adding new floors throughout the house. But, if you add a new floor before you replace the cast iron plumbing, then you’ll have to tear up some of the new flooring. So, along with those other improvements, we decided that it would be prudent to replace our old cast iron plumbing. Like most homes in earthquake country, ours was built on a concrete slab. Which means that the guys who started our plumbing job in late August, brought a jack hammer so that they could get at the old cast iron pipes. Thus, we had a lovely trench in our home for a little less than week, and concrete dust covered all our possessions that had not been covered in plastic. Sigh.
Plumbing job was completed. Flooring was completed. Kitchen was remodeled. Walls were painted. We lived in the home of good friends who were leaving for Burning Man, just about the time all this work was being completed – which was somewhere near the second week in September.
So, short story even longer … I couldn’t write anything for the blog because our house was ripped asunder from late August until mid-September – and because I couldn’t get at the computer for a little while longer.
I know. I know. I hear you. Dial 1 800-WAAAAHH and call the WAHMBULANCE. So, shoot me. (BTW, I had so less than nothing in August and September, 2019, that I’ve posted these last 400 words, today, August 4, 2020. It’s a damned good thing I don’t get paid for this.