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In what universe are these an acceptable substitute for Lays?
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Give me potatoes or give me death.
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Exactly!
And have you wandered down the bottled water aisle lately?
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One puts you to sleep, the other wakes you up.
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I bet this one makes you crave junk food, and I’m not talking about the beet variety.
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But is it?
Is it really….
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Facebook ads. They’re never ending and annoying and I pay them very little mind.
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Yes, I like Hint water… but don’t need to see daily videos.
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And yes, those are some sweet shades I could easily see myself rocking next summer, but they don’t need to join the other 15 pairs I never wear in my junk drawer.
While I realize these ads are targeted to me specifically based on algorithms of my search history, every once in a while they surprise me.
As this one did the other day:
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Not being in possession of a pair, I assure you I have never actively searched for ball wash.
Trust me on this.
Of course since it popped up, I had to click. For research/ blog fodder purposes only you understand.
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Don’t be whack, GIVE A SACK.
There’s an ad slogan designed to burrow deep into your frontal cortex.
And while I admit I chortled over this, I’m not chortling now. Because you know what happens when you click on a Facebook ball wash product ad?
This:
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And this:
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I am now being inundated with less than helpful product placement.
Man meat.
What have I done!
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I forgot to mention this on the broken water line fiasco post, but my run of bad luck continues.
Yes, the fun just keeps on coming.
Torn meniscus in my right knee?
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No water or shower for three days?
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Rodents in open rebellion and probably surrounding the house as we speak?
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So it shouldn’t come as any surprise that just after the well was covered back up it started to rain…
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And our roof sprung a leak.
But wait, another sign someone has put an evil curse on yours truly?
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Birds are literally falling out of the sky in front of me.
Dismembered birds.
Pieces of birds.
Plop!
Right in front of me as I walked down the driveway to the mailbox this morning.
Whaaaaaat?
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Seriously.
Enough already!!
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Thursday morning saw our plumbers back for round 3.
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The new submersible pump was fitted, hooked up and sunk in the well.
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And the 90 odd feet of water line stuffed back in the hole.
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🎶 Whole lotta stuffing going on. 🎶
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The end was found and the cover fitted.
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With a little sledgehammer persuasion.
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The idea of electric wire and water in such close proximity gave me the heebie jeebies, but I’m assured that’s how it’s done.
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A new type of filter called a sand trap was installed and purged. We were told our water would be sandy and sediment filled for a few days until the tank and lines clear completely. That filter turned black quickly, so you know what I’ll be doing for a while.
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Anyone thirsty?
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How about a nice warm bath?
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After the plumbers left with $2,500 in their pockets, there was a hole to fill.
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The husband, being stubborn, thought he could do it by hand. It was pure mud and weighed a ton.. so I texted our neighbor.
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Good neighbors are worth their weight in gold.
And while they were doing that?
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I was doing this. Sweeping muddy water into the drain hole…
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And dumping purged buckets of nasty brown sediment.
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Looks like I’ll be brushing my teeth with bottled water for a while longer.
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But… yay!
We have running water again, even if it isn’t potable quite yet. I won’t lie… that first shower was a little strange. But things are clearer today, and by tomorrow we might be able to drink it again.
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So let me leave you with a few words of wisdom:
Never underestimate the joy of a flushing toilet.
After 3 days without water? It’s the stuff dreams are made of….
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And if you doubt the veracity of that statement, try living without it for a few days like we are.
Bright and early Wednesday morning, 3 men were in deep thought.
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The man on the ground is our wonderful neighbor who brought over his toy to dig a hole.
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A hole was dug.
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A wet and muddy hole filled with water from a broken pipe.
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More deep thinking was called for.
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The ‘let’s put wood in the hole filled with water so we can stand on it‘ idea did not work out as planned. Color me surprised.
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Youngest member of the team was sent down in hole anyway. (Please note he is a master plumber who planned ahead for the avoidance of butt crack photos, for which I was quite thankful.)
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The broken pipe was found and luckily it was right next to the well access so we didn’t have to tear up more lawn or the house foundation.
Solution to the problem? Bypass the existing two pipe configuration, get rid of our not that old damn it! interior water pump system…
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And install an exterior submersible pump made of stainless steel. This meant pulling up the existing water line that runs down into the well… and since that cover hadn’t been opened since 1974?
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It was not an easy job. And when things don’t come apart easily?
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It’s time for the sledgehammer.
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A whole lotta pulling followed.
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I never knew how far down our well was before this.
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But apparently it’s slightly over 90 feet.
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Young guy was sent down into the hole again.
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And of course because this is a job at our house, nothing went right or smoothly.
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Since the old pipe was cracked, it had sucked in copious amounts of dirt and sand that had to be flushed before the wire to the new pump could be pushed through to the house. Nothing worked. Trips were taken back and forth to the plumber’s shop for different tools. Trips were taken to hardware stores for extra supplies and finally… after an entire afternoon of battling… they broke through. Only to move on to the next step and realize a different size pump needed to be ordered.
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To be honest, I wasn’t either. Welcome to my world … please bring alcohol.
So a less than wonderful Wednesday ended like this: open water lines actively pissing muddy water from the flooded hole into our cellar.
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And notes like this pasted all around our house.
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No drinking water, no toilet flushing water, no using dishes and glasses you have to wash… and worst of all, no shower.
Still don’t think water is life? Try not showering for 3 days and get back to me.
To be continued…
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(And I sincerely hope it keeps raining today because that’s probably the only way I’m going to be able to take a shower.)
I woke up this morning, slowly and creaking because of my knee. The husband, who’s been underfoot since March … who hardly ever has to visit a client since working from home… left at 7:00am to visit a client.
And that’s when the proverbial waste product collided with the rotating blades.
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I heard a noise.
And since I’m an anal retentive woman, every noise must be investigated. I tracked the noise to our so filled with crap I never go down there anymore cellar. Stairs are not my friend right now, but I hobbled down in pain and discovered it was the water pump.
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(That’s the little blue doohickey to the right for the plumbing challenged among us.)
The water pump was running. For no reason. Cycling on and off every 15 seconds. This is not what you want a water pump to do. So I climbed back upstairs, slowly and with more than a few sound effects, to make sure nothing was turned on, running or leaking. Nothing was. I hobbled outside in the rain to make sure the outdoor faucet wasn’t left on. It wasn’t. Reaching the end of my diagnostic skills, I called our plumber.
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No. That is definitely not me.
Miracle of all miracles he answered the phone and walked me through a few steps to check the problem. The pump is only 5 years old, the heater a mere 3. Nothing seemed to be wrong inside but when he had me go outside and check the well…
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And I looked down inside..
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The cap to our well was crooked and water was positively bubbling out of it. (picture taken later, sorry… no bubbles) ((The bag of sand was my husband’s answer to the well house blowing over in high wind. He might come to regret this quick fix, please stay tuned.))
When I explained what I saw, the plumber told me to run back down to the water pump (which didn’t happen because, ya know… torn meniscus) and shut power off to the water pump, water heater and recirculator. (another waste of money gadget the husband had to have which doesn’t make a bit of difference).
So I shut power off to everything because he thinks one of our pipes has cracked or broken.
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Yeah. Big time. He doesn’t think it’s a pipe in the house, but rather one leading to the house… and that can’t be good.
Thankfully he’s coming this afternoon… so if you’re a person who prays? Please pray to the god of plumbing for a swift and easy fix for your dear friend River. And rest assured if there are any photos worth posting?
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I will.
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Yes men, I’m talking about you.
Remember the tree planting miracle I posted about a while ago? When the husband dug up and transplanted 3 maple trees to the far corners of our backyard?
Yes, the ones I had to water everyday because we were entering drought conditions.
Well, that stopped when I broke my toe and I told the other half he’d have to take over the job if he wanted his trees to survive.
Water every day I told him.
Which is what I did, religiously, with his little patch of grass seed next to the baby barn.
Under my watchful eye the seed sprouted…
And is now green…
Thick and lush.
The trees?
That the husband didn’t bother to water because of course I don’t know what I’m talking about…..
Not so much.
After brown?
Came bare twig.
If only he’d listened to his wife…
Strange things are happening at Casa River this year.
First, the husband wanted to clean out the big barn ( Okay, he didn’t really. It was just a bit of organizing… but I’m counting it.)
Second, the husband helped me make a garden bed. ( I would have laid money on that never happening. )
And a week ago…
I looked out back….
And saw the husband planting a tree.
Planting! Not chopping down.
Somewhere in America, pigs are flying.
Okay, he didn’t buy them.
And only one of the three stands taller than my knee, but hey.
It’s still a miracle.
He dug them up from the wood line and I seriously doubt he got enough roots to make them viable…. which is why I told him they were going to need lots of water for the first few weeks.
Shall I give you one guess who has to drag that water to the far reaches of our property line because we only have 200 feet of hose and it won’t reach?
Yeah.
I didn’t think so.
Apparently even miracles have limits.
You never know where you’ll end up. Pre Covid 19… it was usually worth the effort.
Now?
Not so much.
The man drove a half an hour… for water.
Why?
Because his office threw out a water cooler. Need I say more?
We arrived, and I elected to sit in the car. A girl can only stand so much excitement. But I was waiting… and waiting… and finally had to check the progress.
Never having been to a water store, I’m by no means an expert. But I’m guessing the water you’re paying for…
The highly purified water?
Isn’t supposed to be on the floor.
After he talked to the machine and they came to an understanding….
All was well.
And now the big barn has clean cold water by the door.
Will the husband ever drink it? Probably not, but don’t miss the point.
The machine was free.
I could bore you to tears with all we saw that day, but let this suffice..
A portrait of an evil cherub who looks like she’s ready to stab Fido with an already bloody knife.
But no.
It’s just a 17th century pacifier. “Your mouth is sore sweetie? Here… suck on this metal and coral pointy thing.”
No wonder she looks pissed off.
“Inveterate dysenterical fluxes”.
Doesn’t that sound like fun?
The museum was filled with artifacts unearthed from the original site.
And things thrown down the communal well.
Naturally, the husband was appalled at the waste of all those perfectly good rusty tools.
The takeaway from most of the history we read?
We might romanticize the idea of the first settlers… opportunity, adventure, a brave new world etc., but in reality? It was starvation, illness and death.
And Pocahantas…. of whom much is written and little is really known.
The only actual image drawn during her lifetime is this English portrait:
A much later Anglicized version of her true self.
Child trading. A fact of which I was heretofore unaware.
So there you have it, historic Jamestown.
Where a t shirt we saw in the gift shop said it all…..
Leaving Jamestown, we got back on the Colonial Parkway…..
And saw some deer.
Some swamps.
And a whole bunch of these strange mounds.
Too small and numerous for beaver.
Any southerners care to weigh in on what constructs them?
The Parkway slides along the James River….
And was a lovely, peaceful, traffic free drive.
Except for the black vultures.
Which are neither lovely nor peaceful….
And often cause their own traffic jams when they discover a fresh kill.
And no, I didn’t include a photo of the canine corpse.
