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Mar. 26th, 2005 08:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickFriday was drywall-delivery-day back of 321. Half-inch drywall is heavy but we got a free boom truck to help with delivery and it lifted the drywall up the outside of the house so that we could feed it in through a window instead of trying to get it up the very twisty, narrow staircase. All hail the boom truck.
Friday was also fun with sinks (replaced one at Terrace 18 and gave it shutoffs and new supply lines to boot, also fixed Scott's endlessly-broken drain at 400). Power tools were involved. We emerged victorious against both sinks, though it was a grubby, cramped, and unpleasant battle at times.
On the frequent trips down Penn Street to the hardware store (buying stuff to put the sink drain back together), I noted with interest that the maple buds had begun to break in Bedford. We're not quite to Sumer is icumen in but at least it's spring in these parts. A lot of people think the first color of spring is green. These people are incorrect. The first color is red. The red is quiet and small. It's not particularly visible unless you make an effort, and I expect that's why a lot of people miss out on it. However, we are in the red of spring, in these parts. Might be that way in your world, too. Go have a look... it doesn't stay around long.
Friday evening until quite late I watched Buffy episodes. Eventually I went to bed because it was either that or put another disk in... and I think all ya'll know how the put another disk in thing would turn out.
Dull grey was the sky when I woke, and it boded. Mostly, it boded that I had to drive three hours and schlep boxes to move![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
not_your_real and her husband to the house they just bought. I bought a latte, a big one, at Starbucks and thus armed, set forth. I drove and drove and drove. (It's a long way to Philly.) Through sleet and rain and fog, I drove. (The weather cleared around Reading and stayed pretty nice until the moving was all done.) I moved boxes. I moved furniture. I got to operate the dolly, and if they'd mentioned needing a dolly, I could have provided them with a free extra one, but they didn't mention and I did not think of it on my own. Lunch was provided at the moving event, including a quite palatable chili (I had two bowls) that had more meat and fewer beans than mine but was yummy just the same. Probably there was a bit of the best sauce involved there, too, but the chili could stand on its own merits.
I stayed and socialized a bit and then I drove (and drove and drove) home. I am now going to watch more Buffy until I have to prop my eyen open with toothpicks. (Not a typo. Archaic plural.)
Almost forgot. I'm over thirty and I have a credit card with a five-figure limit on it. I will not attempt to drive my car from the Willow Hill exit to the Breezewood exit when it says "Check gauges" on the fuel level at Willow Hill. (This is a distance of twenty-eight miles.) Coasting down Ray's Hill into Breezewood in the dark rain and fog with a car that is not running because, er, it would need fuel to be running and it's not got any is not the sort of thing I ever want to do again. I do not ever want to have to convince my Cavalier (dear knight!) to run on fumes through the tollbooth and out the mile to Breezewood so that I can coast it down the hill to the Sheetz and pray (Providence, you have not forsaken me!) that there's an open pump I can steer to with the last bit of momentum I have available. This is NOT the sort of life I want to be having. From here on out, I will, I swear, stop and get fuel at the next available opportunity when driving on the Turnpike and the "Check gauges" light comes on. Also. Cavalier, honey? If you were just joking, and you might have been because you only took twelve gallons and change and I've put thirteen in you before, that wasn't funny. Don't do it again.
Friday was also fun with sinks (replaced one at Terrace 18 and gave it shutoffs and new supply lines to boot, also fixed Scott's endlessly-broken drain at 400). Power tools were involved. We emerged victorious against both sinks, though it was a grubby, cramped, and unpleasant battle at times.
On the frequent trips down Penn Street to the hardware store (buying stuff to put the sink drain back together), I noted with interest that the maple buds had begun to break in Bedford. We're not quite to Sumer is icumen in but at least it's spring in these parts. A lot of people think the first color of spring is green. These people are incorrect. The first color is red. The red is quiet and small. It's not particularly visible unless you make an effort, and I expect that's why a lot of people miss out on it. However, we are in the red of spring, in these parts. Might be that way in your world, too. Go have a look... it doesn't stay around long.
Friday evening until quite late I watched Buffy episodes. Eventually I went to bed because it was either that or put another disk in... and I think all ya'll know how the put another disk in thing would turn out.
Dull grey was the sky when I woke, and it boded. Mostly, it boded that I had to drive three hours and schlep boxes to move
not_your_real and her husband to the house they just bought. I bought a latte, a big one, at Starbucks and thus armed, set forth. I drove and drove and drove. (It's a long way to Philly.) Through sleet and rain and fog, I drove. (The weather cleared around Reading and stayed pretty nice until the moving was all done.) I moved boxes. I moved furniture. I got to operate the dolly, and if they'd mentioned needing a dolly, I could have provided them with a free extra one, but they didn't mention and I did not think of it on my own. Lunch was provided at the moving event, including a quite palatable chili (I had two bowls) that had more meat and fewer beans than mine but was yummy just the same. Probably there was a bit of the best sauce involved there, too, but the chili could stand on its own merits.I stayed and socialized a bit and then I drove (and drove and drove) home. I am now going to watch more Buffy until I have to prop my eyen open with toothpicks. (Not a typo. Archaic plural.)
Almost forgot. I'm over thirty and I have a credit card with a five-figure limit on it. I will not attempt to drive my car from the Willow Hill exit to the Breezewood exit when it says "Check gauges" on the fuel level at Willow Hill. (This is a distance of twenty-eight miles.) Coasting down Ray's Hill into Breezewood in the dark rain and fog with a car that is not running because, er, it would need fuel to be running and it's not got any is not the sort of thing I ever want to do again. I do not ever want to have to convince my Cavalier (dear knight!) to run on fumes through the tollbooth and out the mile to Breezewood so that I can coast it down the hill to the Sheetz and pray (Providence, you have not forsaken me!) that there's an open pump I can steer to with the last bit of momentum I have available. This is NOT the sort of life I want to be having. From here on out, I will, I swear, stop and get fuel at the next available opportunity when driving on the Turnpike and the "Check gauges" light comes on. Also. Cavalier, honey? If you were just joking, and you might have been because you only took twelve gallons and change and I've put thirteen in you before, that wasn't funny. Don't do it again.
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Date: 2005-03-27 05:33 am (UTC)I've had that gas thing happen with my '59...it has no gas-gauge, so I have to keep track of mileage, but once in a while I forget, and it can get a little nerve wracking to be out on the freeway, and not remember when the last time you put gas in it (I don't drive that much) and you don't have an entry in your gas-and-mileage logbook.