Fishing, the city slicker way
Certain of my ancestors are probably shaking their heads, sadly.
I decided to go fishing, for supper. Over to Provigo Pond, where my virtual line was able to catch a feed of pan-ready cod and sole. A choice on the menu, if you will. Didn’t need my boots, or a sou’wester. In counterpoint, I did help a real fisher, somewhere, to earn a living. That’s a positive thing.
Also, the very light bulbs that I couldn’t find at the local hardware store were available, right between the soaps and the “swifters”. I’ve already replaced one of the darks outside, and if it wasn’t so ycold and late in the day, I’d drag the ladder outside (and send son #3 up to replace the other). No, the magic bulbs that last for several decades (mentioned in Ripley’s Believe It Or Not) aren’t in use locally; there are also some CFL’s around the house that now need to be recycled… of course, the stores aren’t ready to make my mercury theirs.
Any ideas on what I want for Christmas?
Talking to the office architect (what? you don’t have one where you work? pity…) about my next house. He thinks that geothermal heating and cooling is a good idea. Told me about some acquaintances that had a degree of bad luck during their installation… the drillers had just about finished the deep hole for the cooling pipes, at the end of the day. Shut things down, went home, returned in the morning. Powered up the drillhead and BOOM! They had tapped into a natural gas pocket. The hole filled with methane overnight, and the first spark rocked the Casbah. For real. Foundation damage and everything.
