Nightmares of collapsed roofs dancing in my head, I took the garden rake roofside– just to make up for my lawn negligence. (In my defense, Treehugger gave me permission to not rake.) It hasn’t really snowed that much yet this year, but it’s only January. The house isn’t all that big, but somehow lifting the roof out of the living room sounds like something to avoid.
Besides. Ice dams. They are rumored to be busy under the snow lifting each shingle and sliding their frigid fingers into the recesses of roofdom.
See that coil of heating wire? Don’t go outside with that. It’s really unruly even at 30 above. I had part of it attached to the roof when I realized that I would never convince the circular memory of this stuff to let go of the past. So, with it still partially attached to the roof, I took the roll inside allowing the attached end to feed through the cracked-open patio door while I talked it into going straight. Are coils addictive? You bet they are.
This worked and I soon had the north eave of the roof covered.
Advice to my Future Self: Put the heat cables on before it snows. This is helpful not only for curling issues, but also because the shingles are ice-free. Attaching those sharp little clips wearing chopper mitts is a bit clumsy. Hands are so much more efficient when they’re naked.
How dare I trust that wacky gauge on the propane tank outside. That rascal has betrayed me before.
On Saturday I checked and had 30% left in the tank. Sunday morning I woke up to no heat. When the stove wouldn’t light either and I suspected foul play did I dash outside in my pajamas and untied boots and wade through a foot of snow in subzero temps to check the tank? Of course I did. It said 0.
So, I ran to town (clothed) and bought a couple of space heaters from the hardware store. I already had a couple, but the forecast was double-digits-below and I wanted to be sure the water pipes against the outside wall didn’t even need to ask for sweaters. My plan was to call the propane company first thing Monday.
Which I did. And want to apologize to Julie (I think she said Julie?) in Bismarck who had the misfortune to be the designated Monday Morning Phone Jockey for a heating company on the Northern Plains of the United States in the middle of January. Customer Service: the most abused employees on the planet. Sorry I was crabby when you said it’ll be $645.99 and the delivery will be sometime in the next ten days. I asked if I could call someone else. Answer: not legal for anyone to fill another company’s tank. Within 10 minutes of ending the call, I had myself convinced that the propane truck would be here today. Any minute in fact.
That was Monday. Today is Wednesday. Meanwhile, I discovered that there’s an online Order Page where I can see when/if the truck is out for delivery. This is helpful in keeping me from pacing and listening for the telltale beep as the truck backs in.
I had an indoor wall thermometer at one time, but I think it was a victim of the Mighty Purge last fall and I didn’t think to grab one when I bought the heaters. So I borrowed the outdoor one and hung it from a magnet on the fridge. It’s a balmy 70 degrees in here. And outside it’s a balmy 30-something. Beats the hell out of 20 below.