Tag Archives: repairs

CSA and grocery store giggles.

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The harvests keep on coming.

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Peppers, fennel, radish, celery, bok choy, chard, eggplant, salad greens and spinach.

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Of course it’s fall, so even the eggplants look like pumpkins.

And at the grocery store this week? A run on creamer.

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WTH? Is there a new Covid cure I’m unaware of that requires cream…

Good thing the beer aisle was still fully stocked.

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And if you’re lucky enough to live in an area that stocks Sam Adams? Do yourself a favor and buy their limited edition seasonal. Jack-O Pumpkin is da bomb.

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A four foot rope of sausage? Not so much.

🤢

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Paper towels are still a no go. Except this one lone package… which was on sale. 6 rolls for $13. But look at the regular price. $16. That’s $2.66 a roll!

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With prices like that, is it any wonder people are making their own truck repairs?

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Duct tape. A most versatile product.

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Back to the nightmare.

 

Oh, you thought the squirrels were the nightmare?

No, that was merely a side story.

The nightmare was the hole.

 

 

And the decades worth of bird nests concealed there in.

 

 

Appropriately masked, the husband approached.

 

 

Pulled a panel and…

 

 

How’s that for an action shot?

 

 

Man, you would not believe how much stuff he pulled out of there.

 

 

It was, in a word…. disgusting.

 

 

And landed everywhere.

 

 

If that isn’t enough to make the husband pay attention when I wave the honey do list in the future?

 

 

Nothing ever will be.

 

 

So now we had an empty hole.

 

 

A big empty hole with a badly installed spotlight fixture.

 

 

And a momma squirrel… who even though she found and moved her babies… still wanted back in.

 

 

So as the husband worked, and stomped my geraniums to such a pulp I had to temporarily relocate them…

 

 

Momma squirrel was watching.

 

 

Many frustrating hours later, just as I was willing to admit defeat and use this-

 

 

It was done.

 

 

Hole plugged.

 

 

And momma thwarted.

 

Nightmare continued.

 

So…

Momma squirrel was not happy we’d disturbed and scattered her children.

Not. At. All.

 

 

Matter of fact, she was downright pissed. And as the husband was working on fixing that awful hole…

 

 

She was positively manic, running to and fro….

 

 

Climbing….

 

 

Perching..

 

 

Even trying to get in the house.

 

 

It was crazy.

 

 

But what she really wanted was back in that hole.

 

 

And as the husband worked, she watched.

See her up top?

The longer it went on…. the braver she got.

 

 

There were times I thought she would climb right over the husband to get in there.

 

 

She was one mad momma.

 

 

To be continued…

What a nightmare.

 

Saturday morning on Memorial Day weekend we planned to finish the baby barn remodel. But that didn’t happen, because I started hearing the scritchedy scratch every homeowner dreads.

Squirrels in da house!

I thought they were in the attic, then the walls… but finally pinned it down to the eaves. And I was certain I knew how they got in.

 

 

Please look at the upper right hand corner, behind the lights.

 

 

It’s been like that since we moved in…. 18 years ago. The previous owner’s gerry rigged spotlight installation.

Naturally, ‘Close Hole’ has been on the top of my honey do list for 17 1/2 years because birds have been nesting in there.

 

 

So the husband grumbled, and cursed, and got a ladder to deal with it.

Which is when I heard the scritchedy scratching…. somewhere else.

 

 

In this corner, under the hanging plant.

 

 

So we yanked back the bushes, grabbed a pry bar and started pulling off decking and lattice….

 

 

To discover the noise was coming from inside the vinyl siding corner post. I pounded and knocked and banged on that post like a wild woman and before long?

Baby red squirrels were tumbling out of it like a clown car. They were terrified, and scattered to the 4 winds… so we plugged up the holes and called it good.

Mission accomplished.

 

 

Well, not quite.

To be continued….

A little drip now and then….

 

Leaking roof saga continued.

Winter is the worst possible time in Maine for your roof to spring a leak … so of course, that’s exactly what’s happened.

Remember when I said I’d cringe every time it rains?

 

 

That’s the sound of me cringing.

It poured the other day… and so did our ceiling.

 

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So much so I had to add another pan.

Which drove the husband nuts when he came home…. and because he’s a man and had to do something?

 

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Yeah. He decided to climb up into the attic to see where it was leaking.

Naturally this isn’t as easy as climbing a set of stairs… because no.

Here at Casa River, we like a challenge.

 

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The den closet, home to an overflow of the husband’s useless crap  treasure.

(Yes, he collects old wooden hangers. Don’t you?)

 

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Half of one side had to be emptied and strewn all over the room….

 

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Because the only way to access the crawl space we call an attic is to remove all the shelving and climb up a hole at the top of the closet.

 

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A design paradigm we curse the builders for quite often.

 

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It’s a bit of a nightmare getting up there.

 

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And no, the husband didn’t appreciate me making a Kodak moment out of the experience.

 

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He wasn’t thrilled that I stuck my head up through the hole to offer advice either.

Men. There’s no pleasing you.

 

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But look… I found an antenna from the 1970’s!

 

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Did I mention there’s no actual floor up there? Just a few scattered pieces of particle board that break when you kneel on them.

 

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So after scuttling around like a crab and lying on his back…

 

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And pointing his flashlight near the section of the roof of the addition you can’t access from the crawl space, he did find where the water was coming in. Halfway up the peak, and running down the beams…. which we can find absolutely no reason for.

 

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Doesn’t this look like fun?

 

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Especially since there’s not a damned thing you can do about it until spring when you can rip off the shingles to find the bad spot.

 

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Meanwhile I’ll have this lovely and ever expanding wart to look at.

And every time I do?

I hear a cash register.

Ka-ching!