Fixed floors
When all else fails (actually, when anything fails), I have some sound advice. Call the people that know what they are doing. Our house is quickly returning to its normal temperature level, and I could have wandered around for days doing what comes “naturally”. That is, pressing on the thermostat controls and wishing mightily.
Instead, we called the company that originally did the job, and their tech arrived this morning. He affirmed my diagnosis, but he went one step further. He fixed it. Not him, alone; sometimes you need parts, but he decided to offload the plumbing call to someone closer to here. And now, after two brief visits (original/deputy), our circulator pump has been changed, the water furnace has been checked over completely, and we have warming feet. All good! Apparently we may have to consider a water softener machine, but that’s a detail. I can take off my socks, take off my jacket, and sit back in comfort.
In fact, I was so keen about getting things repaired that I didn’t do my usual virus panic. We live in a bubble, and this is not the first contact we’ve had with others from within the province. If I’m meant to end up with a dose of Covid-19, so be it. After more than a year of total caution, my feet are warming!
Another month of closed borders, at a minimum; the government made the (expected) announcement this morning. I am fated to stay home, I guess. This won’t be a moment of joy for those with seasonal cottages, but they’ll be able to tell their grandkids that it wasn’t their doing.
