"I have been but little in," said Ninian hastily...

This took place about five blocks away just as I was leaving for work.

So, I'm engaged in work avoidance (I have little men to finish painting before a game tomorrow, and since I *need* to do that, it becomes work), and I decided it was finally time to take down the A/C units for the winter. I successfully avoided even installing the giant ancient one in the bedroom, and the others I only used a few times, this keeping the power bill low and some vague feeling of environmental worthiness happy.

And it's nice to have the windows back, because it allows more light in. Whoever designed this house was a bit odd with windows. There is good windowage in the bedrooms and the living room. The kitchen is good and the bathroom has a pleasing window in the shower (a feature I love). I guess what I should say is that they were a bit at a loss with the dining room. It has one normallish window (that the A/C unit goes in), a small window further along the wall (why not a full-sized window?) that doesn't let that much light in, and a door to the back steps. Except that the door has a short (~3') wall projecting out next to it into the room, making a sort of alcove which makes opening the door rather difficult (one can only open it <90*) and prevents much light from getting into the room through the door.

Well, today I found another annoying peculiarity. There are sliding frames in most of the windows, in addition to the sash windows themselves, that allow for the use of screens and storm windows. The storm windows can be slid up into the upper portion of the window and the screen slid down to allow air (but not bugs) in, and then the screen slid up later and one of the storm windows slid down to allow for extra insulation when the window is closed. And they all stay in one position or another via little spring-loaded chocks in the bottoms of the frames.

I was having the devil's own time getting the slides in the larger dining room window to stay up after I took the A/C unit out. I've always had trouble with them, so I took a closer look, and I saw that the cuts in the frame that the chocks hold into were far too high up; the sliding frames couldn't reach them. So I took them all out to see if they had been placed in in the wrong order. At which point I found they couldn't be, because they are all different widths; the inner ones won't fit in the outer positions.

And it was while examining that interesting bit of design that I noticed what the real problem was. The chocks are shaped like wee trapezoids, with a point projecting out of the bottom edge. The cuts in the frame were identical, except with the point at the top edge. Then it suddenly made sense why the cuts were so high up and there were none at the bottom of the window.

Whoever installed the frame put it in WRONG WAY UP! Bloody idiot!

Well, at least I have my windows back, and a little better fresh air flow.... Now, to shift this bloody heavy A/C unit into the back bedroom closet. The landlord kindly provides storage for them...in the BASEMENT. No, I am not carrying this bloody thing down two flights of very narrow stairs... I'll give up~20 sq ft of storage to avoid that.

Well, it's all done. ( Read more... )

I just mailed a friend a link to the listing for our house, and I stopped to look at the pictures.

I love that house.

I love the friends I've shared it with.

It makes me sad to see it listed like that, a place that's going to be someone else's home, a place that isn't *my* home any more.

But, damn, it does look good! Mel took some excellent photos for the slide show!

And I'm glad to have had the chance to make all the memories I have of it. I do have a terrifically nice place to live now, with someone I adore, and the prospect of more places to live and more memories to create.

But it doesn't stop me being sad at saying goodbye...

Edinburgh skyline, from the BBC Your Photos page ( Read more... )

I've been giving a friend at work advice about places to stay in Williamstown and how to get to and from. A few nights ago I was looking over the touring schedules for a couple of folk singers I like, who operate mostly in MA and CT.

The feelings that well up in me when I look at maps of the Berkshires, or read familiar New England place names, remind me where "home" really is to me. I don't feel this way about Tidewater; it's familiar, and it's interesting to see how places there change (or stay the same), but wherever I go (and I look forward to going many places), I think that the place that will always mean the most to me are the low, long mountains of New England, the endless forests, the country roads and small towns of the Berkshires, and the dirty, scruffy streets of Cambridge, Boston, and New Haven.