“Remoted - Hybrid” – Day 571 (Friday)

After the roll hits the bowl.

It was a vacation day, and like most of my vacation days, there were tasks and chores and annoyances, because that is how I seem to roll, even on days of declared leisure. The day started with somehow accidentally launching a new roll of toilet paper into the bowl while putting it in the holder. It was quickly snatched out of the bowl, because, well, can’t leave it there and expect to not have problems. The half wet roll took on an interesting, sculptural quality, almost like petals.

The guy from the chimney company, originally due on Monday but postponed due to rain that morning, was scheduled for an inspection between 8 and 10 this morning and finally arrived at 10:30. During the waiting around for service window, an apple-strawberry-cranberry crisp was baked, because ‘tis the season. The chimney guy checked the concrete block portion in the basement and pointed out the many cracks. He took some metal thing off and looked inside. Then he went outside and set up a ladder on the tiny deck outside the kitchen door, climbed onto the roof, then pulled the ladder up onto the roof. There is now 100% understanding of the line in “The Night Before Christmas” about “when up on the roof there arose such a clatter.” There was clatter. Lots of clatter.

It turns out the chimney has no cap and appears to have not had one for ages and as a result, there are cracks inside the chimney. This is why water sometimes appears in the middle of the basement floor. The recommendation is a chimney sweeping (hasn’t been done in the five years I’ve been here), sealing, and a cap. Cha-ching! At least the apple crisp made during the waiting period came out good.

Butt filter in a chimney thingy. How?

After the official inspection, I went to the basement to check that the metal cap thing had been replaced in the chimney. It was not. When I picked it up, I noticed it had some grit in it, and a freaking cigarette filter. This house has something bizarre going on with cigarette butts and filters. The driveway is always full of them, there was one on the floor after the water tank replacement, and now, one in the metal chimney hole filler. How on earth does a cigarette filter get into a chimney? 

Then, it was off to the next scheduled event of the day – driving to Fitchburg to the vet for insulin and prescription food for Winston. Cha-ching! The vet is open only two Saturdays a month and last Saturday while I was home boycotting life was one of them. The next open Saturday is days past the point the insulin would be gone. Mom and I planned to meet up after the vet.

There was traffic to battle to get out of Lowell, then heavy volume on 495 South, but not nearly as bad as the parking lot visible across the median on 495 North. When just a few minutes from the vet, I realized the insulated lunch bag and ice block to keep the insulin cold while hanging with Mom were at home in the laundry closet and freezer, respectively. An insulated grocery bag lives in the car, and a grocery store is near the vet, so I did the only reasonable thing I could think of and visited the grocery store for cold items.  

After a speed-shop of the perimeter chilly sections, a container of sour cream, four pack of pricey Jack’s Abbey beer, bag of frozen tortellini, and container of ice cream were bought to serve as coolant for the insulin. Mom asked why I didn’t just buy ice, but for one thing, the only ice machine I know the whereabouts of is across town near the air pump I couldn’t figure out how to access on Sunday. For another thing, now I have the bonus of ice cream and beer for the long weekend and bagged ice would not provide the same joy.

The ride back to Lowell was a certified shit show with bumper-to-bumper traffic and a top speed of 30 mph on 495. It was a bona fide, total joy to be back home with Winston where it is quiet and there are bowls and spoons for ice cream and glasses for beer.