Preparations for another dreaded winter. Long journey into night.
I live on King's Mountain. The house that I bought here was owned by Mr. King. The mountain was named for his ancestors.
I'm actually on a lower elevation than I was in Texas. On the high, endlessly flat plains of West Texas the elevation was over 3,300 feet. No lie. The wild winds were frigid. The house wasn't insulated and it was colder than a witches tit. Alert readers will know that I stole that analogy from J.D.Salinger (even though I never liked Catcher in the Rye).
I (reluctantly) recall the bitterly cold Texas winter when my furnace broke and I didn't have heat for over a week. It got down to 4 degrees at night. If I didn't have a fireplace I would have turned into a popsicle.
No fireplace here in the wilds of Tennessee, and the house is just as cold as the one in TX. I don't want the water pipes to freeze and break like they did last winter. There was a hard freeze last night and it was colder than a penguin's kiss (I made that one up - - it's better than J.D.Salinger).
Yesterday I went under the house to check the pipes and make a feeble attempt at winterizing them. Access to the "crawl space" is difficult. First I have to carefully and painstakingly remove lattice around the front porch and crawl under there. Then I have to unscrew and remove secret panels to get under the house. It is extremely dark, filled with Gothic spider webs (they're the worst kind), and mega-spiders that look like tarantulas on steroids.
This whole under-the-house experience didn't scare the jeeters out of me.
It didn't scare me witless.
It scared me beyond the realms of shitless.
My cat Scratch
enjoying the great outdoors
Let me make a necessary interjection here:
For reasons that I won't go into right now, I've been letting the cats out for an hour or two every day. They were all wandering around while I was under the house.
Before I made my exit from under the porch, I searched around carefully to make sure none of the cats were in there. Then I secured the secret panels and very carefully replaced the lattice around the porch. I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief for managing to get out from under the house alive.
That's when I heard the meowing.
Scruffy, my little Feline From Hell, was trapped under the house. Despite my initial instinct to leave her there forever - -
I reluctantly removed the lattice, crawled under the porch, unscrewed the secret panels, and rescued Scruffy.
Three cats are more trouble than a dozen kids. I think.
Late last night I heard a ruckus in the living room. The cats were after a mouse. The mouse initially ran up the grandfather clock (I'm not kidding) Hickory Dickery Dock. Later it hid under the clock.
In the morning, after I groggily crawled out of bed, I found a dead mouse carefully placed by my bedroom door.
During the previous mouse-hunting session they left a dead mouse in my bed. Remember that one?
Scruffy and Bosco waiting to get the mouse
hiding under the clock
The photos on this post are of poor quality because I took them with my cell phone.
It's a perfectly gorgeous day today. Sunny and in the 40's. Crisp, pure air and a gentle breeze. A few reluctant withered leaves are still clinging to trees. Several hawks are soaring in the blue sky. I saw some cardinals and a woodpecker. And lots of squirrels.
It's my mother's birthday today. I miss her.