Mick Jagger was right

When he said "You're so god damn cold." I had my union party last night (which included management this year, which I didn't approve of, but was outvoted on so what can I say. There were a record number of people there--everyone who works at the library system, plus a few spouses, and we all had a pretty good time) and didn't get home until 9:00. Outside temp was
-10, indoor temp was 54. The light bulb assigned to keep my pump and cellar pipes flowing had burned out so my pump froze. I found this out when I flushed the toilet and didn't hear the welcome sound of the humming pump below. Swell.

I had made plans for an elaborate heat-source set up this year. My cellar is a hole, 8' X 8', accessed through a trap door in the bathroom floor, down a ladder. I bought cinder blocks to put the heater on because the crushed stone on the floor is too wet, due to the holes in the sump pump's hose, which rotted the chair I used to use to put the heater on. Fine, except I never took the cinder blocks down the ladder into the hole. I bought a heavy new extension cord too, and put it in an unknown place when I cleaned for Sunday dinner. These are not things one wants to ponder at 9:00 when it's 10 below. I retrieved the cinder blocks from the trunk of the car, found the extension cord, plugged in the heater, found the other heater I have and started cooking the cellar (slam the door and walk away from the whole thing, my favorite part of fixing winter plumbing problems: set up the solution and wait it out).

Had to bring in huge amounts of wood to stoke the fire. While I was doing that the ice on the lake was talking, making the most wonderful sounds. Like short bursts of a jet plane's roar. I loved it and stood on the deck for almost 10 minutes, with no sound but that in my world. The dogs love being outside in the winter, roaring through the snow, but their initial contact consists of moments when they lift one paw at a time high off of the ground surface because it's painful due to the cold. Last night Tess stood in the woodshed with one hind leg elevated way high, trying to figure out her next move. Three minutes later she and Chances were galloping around the yard.

I got the fire roaring, sat next to the thermometer and watched the temp. rise by degrees to 67 AT LAST. Cuddled under the down throw Jenica gave me for Christmas a few years ago. What would I do without that? I have to wash it frequently because it gets a really heavy dog smell--Tess sleeps under it and on top of me, while Chances sleeps on top of it. We're a very cuddly bunch in the winter time.

The pump finally came on at midnight, but wasn't completely thawed until 1:00--it wouldn't come up to pressure, kept running and stopping so I had to shut it off for the extra hour until the temp in the cellar got warmer. I don't like going down into the cellar at night like that, even though I carefully prop the trap door open, sometimes I worry about its slamming shut. How many days would I be down there for before someone would figure out where I was? My friend Barb would know exactly where I was, but who would know to ask her? When I first went down there last night I had just come inside so I was wearing a down jacket and boots and was very pleased with myself.

So now I have indoor plumbing, a fire in the stove, cranberry bread and coffee at my desk and must face the odious task of original cataloging of probably 50 classical music CD's for Lake Placid. I've finally familiarized myself with new subfields: m, n, p, and r. The opus numbers are imporant, and it's crucial to know whether these are concertos or rondos. Whatever rondos are.