So I’m getting the day running this morning by loading Little Bear into the Jeep, and Ghost is nowhere to be seen. He does this sometimes, nothing personal, he’s just off chasing something at a bad time. I call and call, and then happen to actually look around me…
Well he can be rather quiet.
This is the day when at long last the well’s insides became its outsides, its entrails became its extrails. And unfortunately, though I had hoped the problem could be traced to a corroded connection or something else easily fixed, it has been decided that the pump motor is FUBAR. It’ll be sent off to god-knows-where for god-knows-how-long, and I’m going to get more big water jugs.
I suppose I could make a very small bucket…
Also I made bread, again, having to hike over to Ian’s to actually bake it.
For the record, Ian’s oven sucks. But it does at least work and I think I’ve decided why his does and mine doesn’t. Having tracked the problem down to a faulty pressure regulator rather than anything inside the oven as I originally thought, I was looking at his set-up. He’s got a proper house-type regulator which connects to a portable propane bottle just fine, and he doesn’t have the chronic problems I always have. So I need to get less half-assed. Next time I go to the big town about 50 miles away to renew my glaucoma meds, since as far as I know that’s the closest place where I can buy one without hassle from Al the Reluctant Propane Guy.
Also, from Alert Reader MR, this suggestion for a post-apocalypse weapon which, quote, “is about as useful as the Taurus kit.”
Carrying on!
I spent a good part of yesterday looking a new regulator. No luck, with the cold WX here all the red necks are heating the house with propane grills. I finally found one in my shop in a pile of junk, never throw any propane stuff away. Maybe that regulator that’s pissed you off but nothing else.