One year ago today: August 28, 2016, wow, my new attic.
Five years ago today: August 28, 2012, Da Vinci in Colorado.
Nine years ago today: August 28, 2008, dinner at Peggy’s.
Random years ago today: August 28, 2013, misty blue.
The Grateful Dead. I’m one of the majority who cannot make sense of why they are even remembered today. The only fans of theirs I ever met were two guitar players. One in 2000 and the other last week. I understand they have a cult following, but like the Rocky Horror whatever, I don’t know, or at least don’t associate, with anyone into that. I’ve tried listening to the Dead’s hits, and I know they had hits, but by the tenth measure or so, I’m dreaming of washing the dishes or woodcarving, you know, something exciting by comparison. Take this photo of a sandwich wrapping. That’s got more impact on my life than a band of Beatles wannabes.
The sandwich wrapping, that’s top story. I had noticed the foil-lined packages before, thingking what a nice touch. Since I had some documents on me and it was raining, I took a much closer look at that pouch. Why, let me get that 6-3/4” envelope out of my pocket. Would you look at that? It fits. I immediately asked the manageress for some empty bags, and she says, “I think I know where this is heading.” Too bad she’s married and can’t sing or dance, but you can see the handful of samples under my envelope. If anything comes of this, remind me to cut her in for a lump sum. I will subject the material to some tests, but I suspect it may be that same non-conductive material as potato chip bags. But if it stops RFID radiation, that’s most of what I give a hoot about.
Which brings me another curious affair. Who remembers Hoffman in that movie where he bites the nose off Captain Picard? So, you know what I’m going to do, just to be a prick about it? I’m going to line the new bedroom with tinfoil. Not because I think anybody is spying on me, but just to see a) if it makes any difference to anybody, and b) if so, whom? The rationale is based on exactly the system that the system themselves use. Namely, if they are doing nothing wrong, why would they object? See how the shoe fits on the other foot. That, and the big wide commercial tinfoil is on sale at Wal*mart this week.
[Author’s note: I once saw an infrared photo of the rooftops of some houses that had tinfoil just in the attics. The houses that showed as totally black were conspicuous enough to cause suspicion, such as maybe a grow operation. But a few of the houses had only one room which draws the conclusion the owner has built a Faraday cage. You could still see the outline of the room by the heat that “leaked” around the edges. I will seal those off just to see if it makes anybody.
Makes? Yeah, that’s like Mafia-lingo for exposing the undercover dudes. I, like, watched the Sopranos, I know what’s going on, yup, yup. TV shows on DVD. And everybody knows TV wouldn’t lead us astray. Would they? I mean, television is your friend.]
Trivia. Career shoplifters line their purses and bags with tinfoil to defeat the exit scanners.
Low Earth Orbit
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Hurricane Harvey, supposed to be way down in Texas. The state where everybody remembers Galveston and are therefore prepared for storms and the attendant flooding. You’d have to be totally stupid to live in Texas and not be ready for . . . pardon me, hang on a second. Okay, maybe only 7/16ths to 31/64th stupid, but still. The fact that many a Texan packs iron has nothing to do with that change of wording. I was only fine-tuning my statistics, there. Pardner.
My goal here being an arm of Harvey must have made a left hook over Tampa. There is a reason it did that, you know. It is because this is Florida, and Florida knows about those holes I dug in my back yard y’day. And it thusforthly became Florida’s obsession to show me how quickly those holes fill with rainwater. It’s a Florida thing, a constant Florida thing.
“There are two paths to happiness in life,
utter stupidity and exceptional wealth.”
~ from the Age of Welfare Politics.
I was up till the wee hours, but I have outlined Plan B—a tentative plan only. I ducked out of the dark and rain evening last and figured the materials requirements for the laundry shed vs. new sunroom. Be-danged, there is a 71.9% commonality. Per square unit area, same costs in rafters, joists, flooring, walls, siding, and roofing materials. What could spur me to activity is that the budget for the sunroom is already in place, but the scheduled start time is not until December 2017. Work with me here, what can get done now? The only danger is running out of money half-way. Budget or not, everything is already more expensive than a year ago when the projections were spreadsheeted.
Since one must do the right thing, I called Agt. R, who it turns out, has never done anything like this either. Alright, get me a coffee and I shall strive to pay attention. What do I know for sure on this? The sun room estimate is 240 square feet. That’s 3.9 times the footprint of the shed, so the same storage would require only a quarter of the space. As for the laundry, I have already mapped out the plumbing for JZ, but with this option, the appliances would be inside the house. At this point, the comparison breaks down. Here’s why.
For the budget available now, the sunroom could not be completed. Question. Does it need to be? I can guarantee the footings, deck, walls, and roofing. But not the finishing, plumbing, electrical, or windows. Says Agt. R, forget the shmancy stuff, throw up the studs and rafters only. We go over to Ace, get a 100-foot roll of screen mesh and go at it with the staple guns. No skeeters means good to go. By the time December rolls round, complete the exterior and after that, everything else is get-around-to-it stuff. Meanwhile, I have the other 140 square feet as interior storage.
Let me read up more on floating additions. That’s where (I think) the sunroom rests on its own foundation, it does not rely on the existing house for any support. If either building shifts, that could spell something. But that is why flashing is made of flexible metal, I reckon. I could build the deck independently at first, and put a temp overhead in the corner of the old house where it can’t be seen from the street. I remind the reader, this sunroom is total conjecture. Nothing is done yet. I could throw up a small shed against the house as a compromise, just to see how things work. But the only sunroom you’ll see today is on paper.
ADDENDUM
Watch me intertwine the math test with Donald Trump. That’s a talent, too. With all this shed and sunroom costing going on, you’d think I’d have no time to do any other cipherin’. And you’d be wrong because I’ve been intensely studying the calculation of position using the Moon and Stars. Here’s a quick refresher and self-pat on the back for starting with the Sun. While I’ve not got outside and practiced with my sextant, I did a ton of examples calculating the Sun’s geographic position. My reasoning was that was the easiest object. It is visible most days and I don’t have to use a chart to find it in the sky. As for the sextant, that is the navigational equivalent of unskilled labor. The real work is already done in the almanacs and the figuring part is done on paper. Of which I have aplenty.
The eclipse boosted me into learning about the Moon. It’s a nearly identical calculation with one added factor. But the stars, that is the Holy Grail. Do a star fix and you’ve entered the mystical Land of Oz. And if you get there and look around, you’ll see there is a rarified air about that place also. It’s mostly full of old sailors who can go through the motions, but only a few of them truly understand navigation. You won’t find many C+ programmers in this field of study—but be assured they’ll get here and muck this up, too. That’s the frame of mind where the truth becomes the answer you must give to pass the exam. That’s how millennials know for certain that there are no illegal immigrants on welfare and that Germany started World War II. Everyone wants to pass the exam.
And these are the gangsters that will be navigating your children’s future if Trump doesn’t build that wall.
Last Laugh
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