In anticipation of the freeze, I had drained the water lines after dinner. Even so, I procrastinate my open air shower this morning, though the water will be hot and I’ll feel warmer afterward than I do peering out the window. Breakfast first, I decide, and pour myself a hot cup of tea, add a dollop of cream, watch it swirl, before nestling the hot cup into the nook under my ribs. Heat emanates. Sun’s up. The world begins to glisten and drip.
I know nothing of the ancient art of reading tea leaves. If I did, perhaps they would have imparted in a steamy whisper all of the secret places of water: where it hides, pools, solidifies in the lines, quick-disconnect fittings or camp shower units. Then again, this divinatory deficiency allowed me to leisurely sip my tea while admiring the frostscape before slipping into my bathrobe, shuffling out to the bath house, and the rude epiphany of the still frozen shower head… In the chaos that ensued, I managed to yank my clothes back on, snatch up some toiletries and dash to a friend’s shower before the ferry line to my off-Island doctor’s appointment (made by the skin of my teeth). By the time I returned home in commuter traffic, my lines would re-freeze and aqua-logistics would tumble from the ice dispenser into Saturday, where we’ve arrived. And, yes, I did resolve the problem. I think. The quick-disconnects I installed hoping to easily drain the lines in the event of a freeze, actually block the flow of water from the lines when disengaged--gmph! I will revisit the original plan of unscrewing the whole fitting each night. The forecast for the evening promises another test.
Fyi: potential tiny house purchasers, please note that my ice-capades could be averted with installation of a heated hose, not presently in my electrical allotment or financial budget. And now, back to our regularly scheduled program...
Thanks for shopping by (window- or otherwise)!
Happy Thanksgiving! See you soon!