One year ago today: August 7, 2015, Obama economics 101.
Five years ago today: August 7, 2011, women, single beyond belief.
Nine years ago today: August 7, 2007, I said “honest”, not “good”.
Random years ago today: August 7, 2008, early Millie-Belle.
MORNING
The cabin needs a new electrical sub-panel. The existing breaker box, on the outside of the building like they did back then, only has two knockouts left. And those breakers look like something from the Edison museum. This fuzzy picture shows the old panel, way too small. (Can you see the batbike under my arm?) The kitchen has to be enlarged, which means moving only one partition. There is no prep counter and the hot water heater is a floor model that takes up too much space.
And listening to the Gospel. No, I’m not a Bible-thumper. I like listening to the country radio phone-in material, because it reminds me that most people really are that incredibly stupid. And I’m not just talking about the callers. Most of them preachers have not been doing their homework. One kept mentioning the Bible contains 2,500 prophesies, “of which 2,000 have already come true”. But I’m heading for an 11-hour work day, including breaks and siesta, so I need the distraction.
Sometimes you get an provoking statistic, and I was surprise to hear only 10 copies exist of Caesar’s work, and a similar limited number for the classic writers. But there are apparently (I have not verified it) something like 16,000 copies of the Bible, if you allow that the New Testament kind of came along in stages and was mostly the work of one person. And I actually listened to a discourse on the differences between the “words of Jesus” and the “inspired words of God”. Meanwhile, I was framing the cutout for the new A/C unit.
I tarpapered the remainder of the room and removed all the bits of drywall that survived the original demolition. That’s dirty and dusty, and part of the job you never get credit for. Ever. It took half the day, including removing the nails. The drywall was fastened with nails, which had to be individually pried out with a wonderbar.
The Tower of London.
It is not a tower.
NOON
The fridge is over-efficient. That’s the one I had repaired last week. It has to turned to the lowest setting or it can slightly freeze things over. Which is great if you are a fan of root beer, but makes the butter tricky to spread on toast. I baked enough drumsticks to last all day, only to discover I have no salt and pepper in the new place. No, I’m not running the batbike all the way to up Wiggly on a Sunday for that. I made a lot of tea today, thinking of pumpkin pie. Why is it so hard to find pumpkin pie in Florida? And I’ve never seen rhubarb pie here either. Real rhubarb pie, not that phony kind with the strawberries.
This is an excellent picture of the emerging work room. You can see the tar paper and one insulation batt. This was taken to document the new cutout for the air conditioner, which right now is stuck in the bottom of that window. That is the window that is about to disappear. Note the table saw, sawhorse, and general neatness of the work area.
I stopped once in a while to read, there is no deadline here. One book I’m reading is excerpts from a larger work about Texas separation—which I am for not on its own merits, but because of the message it would send to DC about governmental overreach.
Anyhow, the book was published in 2011 and contains a passage meant to show the world how ridiculous Texans were, saying that 18% of them favored Donald Trump as a president. Man, how dumb can those cowboys be?
My intention was not to read politics, but because I’d heard the statistic that it costs $5 million to produce a new science textbook. The only way the publishers can recoup that money is to have the text accepted by the school system. Enter Texas, which dominates the market. And Texas does not necessarily believe in evolution. I know they don’t have sex education because it would “encourage teenagers to have sex”. I was unaware they needed encouragement. That’s the old Texas belief that you have to prevent teens from their first sex act as late as possible or “the horse is out of the barn”.
Who recalls my criticism of the biology text that at every opportunity showed a black male and a white female studying together? I see now, that was to meet some obscure Texas school board standard, and if you think the students are uneducated, attend one of those board meetings. The problem is, because these books must meet Texas criteria, the other states so often follow suite and buy the same books. Hence, Texas gets exported. And as an insider, let me tell you that most Texas legends, including the Alamo, are only so much ten-gallon bullshit.
NIGHT
I ran out of R-13 but have the schematics for the two new electrical runs in the bedroom. I may make one of the lines switched. I’m not going to skimp on NM (electric cable). I don’t like rooms on one circuit, since a single fault can put the whole room into darkness. The chandelier is getting a dimmer and I did see some remarkable versions of those. Visit the electrical aisle at Lowe’s and see what I mean.
Here’s an event. When removing window trim, a got a cascade of chestnuts. Some chipmunk stashed 250-300 in the window weight channel. You can see me pointing to the stash, with lots of acorns spilled on the floor. Ha! Since there was no opening [for the squirrel], it indicates the house was built in the summer and sealed over, trapping the acorns. That made my day. The bedroom budget is half-spent, but the discovery that the floor could be leveled without a new footing lopped $1,700 off the total in a wink. You gotta love that.
I can tell you the materials budget. For the floor, not including the already present 4x8 foot subflooring sheets, we have $380 left. For insulation, another $180 is set aside, which includes interior weather barrier, and $370 for electric wiring, boxes, clips and such. Two of the new outlets will be exterior, and code says the run to the room must be encased in piping.
Note again that this trip I did not work on the floor, but it is obvious the joists have settled. The only snag is that the carpenter was left-handed. And no, you cannot simply turn the lumber upside down, or start from the other corner. That’s nonsense from people who’ve never tried it. I’ve ruled against sconces in the bedroom, since it is impossible to tell if it will remain a bedroom or how the furniture may be get arranged.
ADDENDUM
This blog also serves as a repository for certain details of my life, and these crop up on their own. While working on the long-range budget for this new house (and yes, it is all good news in the retirement sense), some fine points came up in the reviews. Don’t run away because this may involve the Smithsonian. Again. On November 23 of this year, it will be 35 years since I worked for a living. Oh, I worked, but to get ahead, to dig myself out of the hole I was born in. I did not work to pay off incredible debts over a place to live and a car to drive. I’m dumb, but I ain’t that dumb.
So I’m making November 23 the arbitrary date to get to the Smithsonian. Dammit, I deserve that trip. By rights, I should have been there many a time by now, but when you are young and broke, you don’t have much say in the matter. When I think of the times I came closest to that trip in the past, it was when I worked for others and tried to save the money for the journey. That never works, I found out.
You can’t save any realistic amounts of money when you are born poor and work for others. The system does not provide security of property unless you are very wealthy. You need a lucky break, which never happened to me. I can say now that I’ve worked for a lot of people who were too stupid to realize just how much smarter I was than they were. Before you label that arrogant, think of your own life. I’ll name the worst offenders, oh they knew I was smart, but they did not possess the brains to understand how smart. Thirty-five years in November, guys, while you sweated your asses off going nowhere. Ray Ludley, Robert Roy, Lionel Edwards, and Hector Aleman.
I hope you all worked yourselves to death, because you sure weren’t doing the world any good while you were alive. Ray’s the guy who you wonder how he got to be such an azzhole, then you meet his father. Robert found out the hard way I’m not his or anybody’s little buddy to boss around. Lionel, I swear I did not know she was your daughter. And Hector, well, all we need do is leave Hector alone, is what I'm saying.
And of those 35 years, the last 11 have been total retirement. Which became the most prolific and creative time of my life. I wonder what I might have achieved with a little help earlier on. Oh, I’ll never be anything great because fame is measured by the finish line, not the distance run.
Last Laugh
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