Nothing’s Simple

Honestly, we made a ton of progress today. Marsh’s dad came with me, toting his own toolkits and a huge roll of plastic he’d been hoarding — apparently for this very purpose.

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So now the porch is roughly weatherproofed, which will help hold in whatever warmth we can generate with portable heaters, provided there’s power…

Central Maine Power had assured me the power could be activated remotely, which would have happened at 7 am. But at 10 am there was no sign of electric current. When I finally reached a warm body at CMP, she seemed able to tell with no ambiguity that our property was not and could not be a candidate for remote activation. But there was reportedly a technician en route. We would have power “probably by 3:30 or 4.”

Around 11:30 an orange pickup truck paused out front, then turned confidently across the section of ice berm that I had dug out yesterday, and churned across the snow more than halfway to the house. As I clomped down to meet it, I debated internally whether the correct greeting might be “Wow! That took some balls!”

A slim, energetic woman popped out of the cab. “Wow!” I said. “That took some… nerve!” Which was better anyway, all the way around. She grinned, gestured at the Prius parked demurely across the street, and said, “Yeah! Well, I thought I might help you out, forge the way!” She proceeded to adjust the meter and then there was power. Everywhere except the living room, which seems to be wired into the same circuit as the water heater, which of course has to be kept off.

Everywhere else we were able to run space heaters, power tools, and lamps! And we got back to work.

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Removal of the paneling upstairs revealed… drywall! Go figure. I think taped, mudded, and well-primed it is usable as is. We just have to remove enough (tomorrow, maybe) to determine the amount of insulation behind it. We also have a goodly stack of oak (!) 1×3 trim that came down from the ceiling molding. I predict it will be reused in the construction of bookshelves.

Lastly, now that I had power to run a saw, I put up the mailbox. I think it’s too high — if the mail person complains, I’ll lower it. But… querencia! (Thanks, Jamie!)

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