The Average Blogger

I Got Plenty of Nuthin'

It's weeks like this one that just concluded that are tough for me to blog about -- not because bad things happened, but because so little happened.  I had more work than hours to do it; ditto for Not Your Average Blogger. The bathroom remodel continues apace (tile is in but not grouted) and might be done by next weekend.  The kid plodded through another week of school. The one good thing is that our snowblower purchase seems to be working its mojo so far -- no snow since we put it together.  That's supposed to change Monday, though. 

There were two amusing things that happened.  First, I made it a point this week to drink a different kind of soda each morning instead of my usual defaults.  Having done so, I remember why I had defaults.  Grape soda is overpowering. Orange soda isn't bad, but I like it better watered down with lots of ice.  Strawberry soda is like fizzy liquid Jello. Cream soda is even less thirst-quenching than other sugar drinks. And Cheerwine? I can't even figure out what's up with that.  It's like Dr. Pepper for people who say they don't like Dr. Pepper. I didn't see the point.  So, yeah.  Next week I'll try the flavored waters and see where that gets me. 

The more amusing thing is that today the Young Prince and I went to Rebounderz.  For the uninitiated, this is basically a setup where you bounce around in a room that is entirely trampoline. We spent an hour jumping around and I liked it quite a bit (more than the kid did, I suspect.)  But it was fun enough for both of us that we are talking about going back tomorrow and we have managed to find another exercise option for the next few months when we cannot stand the idea of running around outside. They have a lot of rules, which is understandable.  My problem was that the squares were kind of small, and I have gotten rather fat and don't tuck up as compactly as I used to, so I lacked confidence to try a full flip landing on my feet, but did several landing on my ass, which greatly amused the mom of the other kid we were there with. I am pleased to report that after the first two, I didn't get quite as dizzy, and I rather think I could make this my three-a-week exercise regimen, so maybe by the time summer rolls around I'll be in decent bouncy form. 

Don't hold me to it, however. I'm sure I'll find a bazillion other things I Really Need to Do with that time. Hopefully one of that bazillion will make for more interesting blog fodder than this!  

Bed, Bath, and BS

(Title credit must be given to my mother who has been using that name for years in reference to the store.)

This was supposed to be a post about what it’s like to have your guest bathroom demolished in the dead of winter. Instead, it’s a post about the dead of winter, wherein my various weather snobbishness is on glaring display.

Last year, we had a third or fourth flood in a decade come through our living room ceiling from the upstairs bathroom. We decided that meant it was time to remodel the thing, with hopefully less grout and fewer chances of ruining the drywall and plaster below.

Last weekend we picked out tile (I think I won half the battle—no 18-inch tiles, but maybe 12-inch) and assorted other items. Work was supposed to begin Wednesday. All was well.

Tuesday morning I woke up to 3 inches of snow. School, which was canceled every time it so much as clouded up last year, was still in session. I applaud this. Having walked to elementary school in Moline, Illinois, where three feet of snow and single-digit temperatures were common, I was utterly bewildered by last year’s nonsense. I will say this, though: Moline knew how to deal with snow as it relates to infrastructure. As usual, our road was not plowed. I figured this would mean bad news for the bus, so I gave the Young Prince an extra 10 minutes for breakfast, then put him in the car and crept out of our neighborhood—only to find none of the main highways were plowed either. When we got to school, none of the buses had arrived yet, and a few teachers were also delayed. I checked Siri for the commute time to my office: 3 hours. Yeah, no. I turned around and went home, and by the end, I’d gone about 10 miles in an hour. I fired up the laptop, burrowed into our blankets, and went to work.

We have a rather long driveway, but it’s also asphalt with sun exposure, so it usually melts quickly, even if the temperatures stay below freezing. Of course, this is usually aided by Not Your Average Blogger getting out there to shovel it. But he and I were both too busy buried in work and blankets to do it. (Working from home is nice in that you can do it from bed, but it's also unfortunate in that I, at least, work more than I would in the office.) So on Wednesday, the contractor picked his way down our driveway, looked at our sidewalk, both of which were more ice than snow at this point, and said, “Um, I’ll see you Monday.” I honestly think his truck probably would have made it, but I’m not keen for him to fall on the sidewalk hauling our old bathtub out of the house, so I figure that’s fair.

We all blew it off for a second day because everyone had to work on site that day, despite a two-hour delay for school—when the roads were clear—because of “dangerously cold temperatures.” It was 9. I grant that can be dangerously cold, but not if you’re walking to school/outside for less than an hour/etc. (See the earlier reference to my Midwestern snobbishness.) This delay put me in the office at 11, and there til 7 p.m. Not my favorite. On the other side of weather snobbishness, I will attest to the fact that even hurricane warnings didn’t delay my office arrival by 2 hours and wreak havoc on my personal plans. I’m ready for a return to the sun belt.

Thursday afternoon (after another two-hour morning delay—and there would be another on Friday, so the schools are now officially burned through one snow day for the year), the YP and I went to work on chipping the ice and shoveling the drive. Unfortunately, it was after school, so the sun was already low, and melting would be minimal. After an hour and a half, we had done a fair bit and blew off the rest. We have instituted a new penalty for cussing—a dollar in the jar for every infraction. I grilled him about how many times he had cussed during our endeavors and he vowed the answer was zero. But he agreed that whatever was in the jar should definitely be used to defray the cost of a snow blower.

I had already been thinking about this, because I can already play out the next few weeks in my head: The driveway, which is now in fine shape thanks to our efforts and a bit more sun, will be totally clear Monday morning. It will snow Monday afternoon. We will have our bathroom half-demolished. Nobody will have time to shovel, and the contractor will be delayed three more days. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I want this bathroom before March, so today we are going to buy a single-stage snow thrower. Just one of the hidden costs of remodeling, I suppose. While we are at the store, perhaps I will just go ahead and buy the bathroom light fixtures I want. This way, I figure I will be guaranteed that it won’t snow again for six years, and I will be sure to see all the holes in the grout of the new shower!