Cops out front and possums in the back.

Neither of which were terribly inconspicuous I might add.

I try to keep my Gladys Kravitz gene in check,  but once in a while I happen to notice something that doesn’t quite look right.  I mean, if you park your buggy and wander around the neighbourhood,  you may be trying to sell something,  but nine times out of ten, there’s something “up”.

I figure I’ll stick Gladys in there,  just in case you’re unsure as to who that might be.

Speaking of something that just might be “up”,  it was a few weeks ago I suppose,  when there was someone at the door,  quite late at night I might add,  and they were supposedly from ADT.  

Of course,  this was before Daughter Number Two and Hubby moved out,  so there was suddenly a dog at the door to greet them,  which is quite fine with me.  Anyway, there was some offer to “put one of their signs on the lawn”, and T.C. basically sent them on their way.   Well,  it just so happens that ADT had no knowledge of anyone cold calling in our neighbourhood,  nor is it one of their marketing schemes.   So our guess was that these two yokels were simply checking to see which places were easily broken into?   Why else would they come around after nine at night?

And no,  I wasn’t the one to answer to door,  or I just might have called the cops on the spot.  I was “resting”…

 

So ya,  I take a dim view of cars just hanging around.   Of course,  the two latest yokels out front were either from the constabulary,  or I’ll eat my shorts.

 

Oh,  and the possums?   They were just hanging out in the neighbour’s back yard.  But really,  not “hanging”,  so much as mucking about on the ground.  For a few hours I might add.

I apologize for making you squint,  but Daughter Number Two took her nice long lens away when she moved out.  *sniff*.  Prolly should get my own one fine day.

I’m not going to offer any theories as to just what they might have been up to for the whole time they were there,  but my best guess is that there will be some little Possums in these parts in the not too distant future.  “Playing Possum” takes on a whole new meaning.

 

Let me see.  What else?   Not much.

The clean up continues,  along with the repair job in the upstairs room.  I think I’ll be ready for primer tomorrow.  T.C. is getting anxious,  but hasn’t been after me too much.  I try not to do a half-assed job, so that usually means not getting ahead of myself.

 

There will be pictures at some point. 

Oh,  and the window company has cashed our cheque and started production.  Three to four weeks.  I might need to snap out of it.

 

A bid you all a fine weekend.  Buckle up.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Spending like a drunken monkey.

Or is that “drunken sailor”?   I think it is,  although I wouldn’t want to offend any sailors.  Or Coast Guardsmen.  Is that what they’re called?

Anyway, that’s what it felt like.  Between sending off a cheque for a considerable sum for 50% down on the windows,  and then just running all over town wearing out my bank card, I felt like I was getting carried away.  And I was only really buying essentials. 

OK, maybe that’s why my bank card crapped out at the beer store?  Not really essential? 

Not sure what happened there,  and the bank lady had no helpful hints.  “Maybe the chip was squished?”  I didn’t think they got “squished”.   At least the bank was open and I was able to get a new card. 

Ah technology. 

It’s all fine and dandy until it craps out.  She wanted to know if I wanted the “flash” on my card?  That’s so you can tap it up against one of the fancy new sensor type gizmos at coffee shops and gas stations.  It’s also there so someone can come by and steal the information from your card.  There’s an “app” for that,  apparently.

Admittedly I keep my wallet in my front pocket, and would probably notice someone waving their smart phone around my junk,  but I decided I didn’t need that feature.

 

So I struck out at Home Despot on Sunday.  Should have known.  It’s a store for the “do it yourselfer”.  So they had various types of drywall compound,  but I wanted plaster.   Yes,  plaster.  I had a bit of a gap to fill,  and I knew drywall compound wasn’t going to do the job.  It cracks too much when it cures,  if you put it on that thick.

That meant I had to go to a place where they have actual building supplies.  And people who know what they’re talking about.  Well,  maybe that’s harsh.  The bloke at Home Despot knew enough to know that they didn’t have what I wanted.  I suppose that would have to do.

 

 

So I took the “truck”.

  

That’s the stuff.  No fancy labels for the “do it yourselfer”.  It’s scratch coat plaster.  Mix up as much or as little as you need.

 

Works like a charm.

I had to dig a chunk of it out this morning, since it felt like it hadn’t gripped the way I liked.  Sure enough, there was some punky bits up in there.  So I had to mix up a wee bit more.   I’m sure you care.

Mañana.

 

Actually, speaking of trucks.  I have to get one.

Cramming stuff in the back of the Merc is starting to get a bit tired.

It is possible,  but not really practical.  I hate vehicle shopping,  but I need to suck it up. 

Those are shelves that I’ll massage into storage units for son-in-law’s comic books.  He and Daughter Number Two are getting their new digs nicely organised,  and there can never be too much storage.

Or getting stuff up off the counter,  say.

Put that up yesterday.

 

Meanwhile I’ve been pressed into service to go and rototill a small garden that Travelling Companion is going to “co-manage”   (like that term?) with her sister.   A rototiller does not fit in the back of the Merc,  so I have a call in to my nephew to borrow the truck I sold him in 2008. 

Still waiting.

 

I miss that truck.  *sigh*

 

His seventeen year old son has been driving it.  Hopefully I won’t be too horrified when I get behind the wheel.  *shudder*

I remember being a teenager.  And being at the wheel of a borrowed vehicle.   

Again.  *shudder*.

 

 

Well,  I better go load up my hawk..

 

 

No need to keep those sticks anywhere but back in the closet.  You know what I mean.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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Kinda stoked.

Doesn’t happen very often, I realise.  I’m just not a very excitable boy.

I may have mentioned that I’ve been ‘in talks’ with a window company up in Sundridge, (here in Ontario) on the subject of completing the set of replacement windows I’ve been working on for just about the last decade or so?

I would have kept soldering on, except for that whole, “say, let’s go and live in Europe for almost five years” program. 

Hey, you take what comes along.  So everything in the house department came to a stand still.

Anyhoodle,  the lady running the place has very kindly submitted a quote for the four windows that I’d like to install,  and the price is actually right around what I thought we’d be paying for just the front window!   Maybe we were daydreaming or something,  but I thought it would be way more.

I spoke with her on Friday,  and she was complementary on my drawings, which was probably the only thing I ever learned in grade seven and eight shop,  so that was nice.  Plus of course,  it doesn’t hurt to know a bit about window jargon, so as not appear as a complete noob.   Manufacturers hate noobs, as near as I can figure,  so it always helps to speak the lingo.  Yes kids,  learn the language!

I’ve replaced roughly fifteen windows so far,  and all I want to do is get it done.  I say “roughly”, since it depends on whether you want to count the individual windows,  or the openings.  I suppose it would be 12 openings.  So we’ll leave it at that.

I was describing the concept of cedar windows to one of my pub buddies on Friday,  and he really and truly didn’t get it.  But here’s the thing.  With the exception of the fact that window technology wasn’t quite up to snuff back in the fifties,  the existing cedar windows in the house have faired very well.  The wood itself is fine.  Cedar is like that.  It’s a wood that has a lot going for it in terms of resistance to rot.  It’s also very dimensionally stable.

Of course,  the only downfall is,  the latest technology in 1958 was something called “sash less sliders”.   So ya,  just glass on glass.  R value?  *pfft* Damned little.   Plus of course,  the thermo panes in the big front window failed years ago.  R value?  Only marginally better than damned little.

 

Meanwhile,  I have other irons in the fire.

 

Looks pretty bad, I realise.  But there was a leek there,  and I *believe* the problem has been cured.  The east side of the chimney is another story.  The jury is out on that side.

Anyway,  I’m down to the scratch coat of plaster there,  so I might go over to Home Despot and pick up a bag of plaster,  rather than just go with drywall compound.   Drywall compound will take forever.

Then there was another thought that popped into my pea brain,  and that was to check the oil in the compressor.   I’ve had this compressor for about twenty years,  and it’s still running like a trooper.  The main thing is not to neglect it I suppose. 

You can have your “oil-less” compressors.  I’ll take the old fashioned kind that take oil.  I suspect they last longer.

 

OK,  off I go.  Gonna go chat with all the “knowledgeable” folks over at Home Despot.  Ha!

 

Happy Mother’s day to all you Mudders out there.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

 

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