Water Saga

February 2, 2022 — Pat Bertram

I was a bit disappointed when I moved here and saw my creepy basement because I’d imagined a finished room. Instead, I got a dark dungeon-like space with a rotted floor from too much flooding, crumbling half walls, and spooky nooks, though no crannies. (A nook is a corner or other small space; a cranny is a gap or a crack in a wall.)

Above and beyond the walls shown in the photo are deep crawlspaces with all the pipes and ducts and other arteries of a house exposed.

As it turned out, the new garage with plenty of storage space precluded any need for basement storage. Still, I had the basement cleaned out, the floor concreted, the walls painted white, all of which made the place look a trifle less like a dungeon and a bit more like what it is — a utilitarian space for the water heater and furnace, as well as those “arteries.” It’s still not pretty any way you look at it, but it does the job.

The best thing about the basement turns out to be the thing I really didn’t appreciate — the visibility of all those pipes and ducts (visible in real life, that is; they’re not visible in the attached photo). When I got my water bill with the hugely inflated water usage, it was easy enough for me to go down to the basement and look for any drips or flooding. I didn’t see anything. A worker who came to help me find the leak didn’t see anything, either.

This is a basic house, fairly simple with not much hidden besides the buried pipes leading to (and from) the house — the gas line, the sewer line, and the water pipe. So, if there is no leak in the house, no water running anywhere in the house, there are only two places for a leak — where the buried water pipe connects to the meter and where it connects to the house. The pipe itself should not be a problem — the old lead pipe was replaced before I got here as a condition of the sale. (I even have the receipt somewhere.)

Unfortunately, with all the snow that was dumped on us, as well as the frigid temperatures we’re going to be treated with the next few days, no one will be able to get out here to probe for water leaks. But that’s beyond my control. What I can do — I did: go down to the basement and look for leaks and listen for water movement through the fully exposed pipes.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in home, house, life. Tags: , , , , . 4 Comments »

Interesting Days

February 1, 2022 — Pat Bertram

This is another of those interesting days where a problem looms that takes a lot of time on the phone to resolve. Yesterday it was my water bill — apparently, 19,000 gallons of water have disappeared on my side of the meter. After talking to six people yesterday, I finally found someone who will probe for the leak. The problem is that if they can’t resolve this today, it will continue for the next week or so because a major storm is coming through here tonight and tomorrow, with subzero temperatures and six inches of snow.

Today, I got a message that PayPal had paid my virus protection renewal bill even though it doesn’t come up for renewal for another thirty-five days. I also don’t have money in the bank account associated with the PayPal account to pay for it (I always keep that account almost empty in case of such problems), so that’s another issue to deal with. The virus people were supposed to email me before they renewed, but didn’t, so I didn’t get a chance to stop the auto-renewal. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but after I signed up for the services, I found out I got the same service free through my internet provider, and I certainly don’t want to continue paying for something I don’t have to. I would have stopped the auto-renewal months ago, but they made it sound as if they would immediately cancel all services, and I didn’t want to take a chance. Instead, they decided not to take a chance on me and renewed early.

I called the virus protection people to have them issue a refund, and because of a language problem, they didn’t understand what I wanted. Finally, the word “refund” got through. Now I only have to wait for a few days to make sure that if/when PayPal takes money from my account, it will be refunded, though perhaps there won’t be a problem because the refund went through before the money was debited from my bank.

When all that is taken care of, I will have to contact my internet provider to set up the new protection plan (which actually is the very same one I just discontinued). I don’t want to get started on that until I have a lot of time at my disposal because nothing to do with the computer is ever easy. It should be, but it isn’t. There always seems to be a problem.

These “interesting days” will be continuing, not just because of the switchover for the virus protection plan, and not just because of the water issue, but because of the winter weather advisory and all of the problems that will arise from the storm, such as shoveling the walks and getting safely to and from my job.

But it will all work out, one way or another.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

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Meter Mystery

January 31, 2022 — Pat Bertram

I’m dealing with a bit of a mystery today. I got my water bill in the mail, and it showed that I used 19,000 gallons of water more than I did a year ago, and 11,000 more than last month when I was watering every day. (I didn’t water at all during this billing cycle.)

Apparently, when the billing people saw the hefty usage, they sent a meter reader here to check the meter to see if there was leak somewhere, but they meter wasn’t spinning, which showed no water being used. At first, I thought they were referring to the extra water I was using to water my grass, but when I got the bill, I saw what they did — a huge amount of water being used. Also, I found out today that when they reread the meter, just a couple of days after the first reading, I’d used an additional 3,000 gallons, which is more than I generally use in a month.

One thing they suggested (because their electronic readers supposedly have an accuracy rate of 99.9%, so it can’t possibly be a reading error) is that I have an intermittent leak. Huh? I’d think you either have a leak or don’t. Leaks don’t repair themselves temporarily. They also thought that perhaps someone was stealing my water, though I don’t see how that is possible, either. I only have two outside faucets, both of which are attached to hoses (because I thought I’d need to water my grass occasionally this winter). I also have the faucets wrapped in insulation, so it wouldn’t be easy to get to them to turn on the water. (It’s not even easy for me to get to them!) Besides, with the snow we had, I could tell no one had been in my yard. Their third suggestion was that the 19,000 gallons came from the faucet I let drip on the subzero nights, but I know for a fact that uses less than five gallons, not the thousands they said it could use.

I eventually ended the call, leaving her as bewildered as I am. She said she will check with the meter reader again (as well as tell him where I’d stashed the tool he left behind when he read the meter) and see if he can think of anything, though basically, all he can do is read the meter again.

Luckily, I have a contractor on call. He’ll send someone over this evening to see if they can find a problem I might not be able to see.

I did think of one possibility for him to check: the dishwasher water lines. I haven’t used the dishwasher for a couple of years, and I recently started again, partly because I wanted to make sure it would still work, but mostly because it’s easier to stash the dishes in the machine than to dry them by hand. I only use it every five or six days, so if somehow there is a 3,000 gallon per use leakage rate, that would add up to the extra 19,000 gallons. But still, wouldn’t I hear all that water swishing through the lines?

One way or another, the contractor will help me figure this out. Meantime, I have a dishwasher full of dishes that I’m afraid to wash.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of intriguing fiction and insightful works of grief.

Posted in house, life. Tags: , , , , . 4 Comments »

Special Day

January 29, 2022 — Pat Bertram

Today was a special day. Actually, all days are special in their own way, even those filled with agony and anguish, though I don’t know why they would be special except perhaps that painful days tell us we are alive, even though momentarily we might wish we weren’t.

But today wasn’t a day of body aches or heartaches. It was an easy day, pleasant, special in its uneventfulness.

It was a lovely day outside, which gave me an opportunity to stretch my legs. So often in the almost two years since I damaged my knee (while sleeping, of all things!) I took small steps to keep from damaging the knee further. Lately, though, I’ve been reminding myself to use the whole sphere of my being.

We live in a personal sphere, the space taken up by outspread arms and legs. As we age and become more fearful of missteps, and as we try to protect painful limbs as I did, we shrink into the center of our spheres, shortening our stride, hunching into ourselves. Grief was that way for me, too, pulling me into my center as if to protect me from further blows. It took me many years to finally straighten and open myself up to my whole personal sphere. And to open myself to life.

Striding out has its own problems, I am sure, such as a tendency not to pay attention or to pay attention to the wrong things, so I use my Pacerpoles to help with my stride and my safety as I walk. Unlike most trekking poles or walking sticks, the action of the Pacerpole is more natural, with the emphasis behind the trunk instead of in front. (Similar to using ski poles). These poles make me feel more like a regular person than like an old lady who is so feeble she needs two canes. They also make the walk more of a full-body exercise, which is good, as well as taking some of the weight off my knees, which is even better.

But I am getting away from my point about this being a special day. As I said, the weather was lovely. My main meal was tasty and relatively easy to prepare. (I added chicken and vegetables to a broth I’d previously made.) Although the book I read was rather weird (I’m still not sure what the point of it was except that it was a different sort of ghost story about soldiers lost in Cambodia during the Vietnam war), I was delighted to have the time to finish it so I could start another one by a different author that might be more to my liking. (Interestingly, the first book was called The Reckoning the second The Great Reckoning. I liked the serendipity of those titles.)

And now I am here, talking to you about this day that was special in such an unspecial way, and that’s nice, too.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in blogging, culture, life. Tags: alone but not lonely, living alone, no one to care when I leave 

Posted in books, dealing with old age, grief, life. Tags: , , , , . 2 Comments »

Living Alone

January 28, 2022 — Pat Bertram

As I was leaving the house this morning to walk to the library (in nineteen-degree weather!) it suddenly struck me as strange that no one cares when I leave. No one cares when I get home. No one cares if I stay home or stay away. Obviously, I care, at least to an extent, but for the most part it doesn’t matter because wherever I am, there I am.

A lot of people care, not just about me but also that I am safe and well and that we can visit occasionally, but for the daily comings and goings? No one.

I’m surprised it took me this long to realize the strangeness of this situation, though it really shouldn’t have been a surprise. The first couple of months after Jeff died, being alone didn’t seem strange, just so very, very sad. I couldn’t stand coming home to an empty house, not because it was empty, but because I forgot it was empty. I’d unlock the door as always, ready with an “I’m home!” and then it would strike me . . . again . . . that he was gone, and full-on grief would slam into me.

For the next few years, I took care of my aged father, and when he was gone, I was so busy clearing out the house and getting it ready for sale that I didn’t really notice that no one cared whether I came or went. When the work was done, that huge house was so empty that I noticed the echoes but not much else. Also, by then, I was involved with dance classes, so my dad’s house was mostly a place to spend the night.

The years after I left my father’s house were spent traveling or renting rooms in other people’s houses, and I was blogging about my activities, so I didn’t notice that no one was around to pay attention to my comings and goings.

When I bought this house, it was such a new and wonderful experience — both owning a house and making a home in a new place — it didn’t really strike me that no one particularly cared about when I left the house.

But now, it’s been almost three years since I bought the house. Although the thrill and the feeling of being blessed isn’t gone, I am more aware of being alone. (Not lonely. Just aware of aloneness.) That awareness could be why I talk to Jeff’s picture, and why I tell the photo when I am leaving, but a photo doesn’t care.

Now, almost twelve years after his death and all the moves I’ve made and all the things I’ve done, I’ve suddenly realized how strange this living alone is. It’s nice, of course, being able to do what I want and go where I want without regard to anyone else. But it’s also . . . not sad, exactly, but . . . strange.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in blogging, culture, life. Tags: , , , . 9 Comments »

Adventurous Trek

January 27, 2022 — Pat Bertram

I was awakened when the day was just breaking by the beep-beep-beep of construction trucks backing up. I have a hunch they wanted to get in some work before the snow got heavy, though it never really did. The good thing is that they were fixing the sewer lines, so it wasn’t something I had to pay for, at least not directly.

Although you can’t tell from the photo, snow was falling lightly when I took the picture, and it continued most of the day. Temperatures hovered around freezing, so whatever snow fell melted right away, leaving mud and puddles behind, which made walking to work a real adventure.

Although it’s only two blocks to my client’s house, there was no way to get there without making a mess of my shoes, unless I wanted to walk several blocks out of my way. The sewer dig went straight down the alley and across the street (they’d had a machine out here a week or so ago that chomped up the tarmac, leaving the strip unpaved). Because of the snow and the digging, that ten-foot-wide strip turned into pure mud. Just as bad, the way they do the storm drainage around here is to hump the middle of the street, creating a ditch on either side of the road, which fill with water because it was an inefficient concept for drainage. The good thing is that I was able to wash off my muddy shoes in the puddles. The bad thing is that my socks got wet, and I didn’t bring a second pair of socks as I usually do during wet times. (I can’t blame myself for forgetting the socks because we’ve had so little wet weather it was easy to forget my wet-weather routine.) I did remember to bring dry shoes, a sweater, and my lunch as well as all my regular staples such as phone, water, and a variety of small emergency items.

With all the stuff I bring, you’d think I was going on a major expedition instead of a mere two blocks!

I mentioned yesterday that when I’m at work and the client is asleep, sometimes I read, but sometimes I also play games on my phone. I get tired of the one I have (a word game where you unscramble a bunch of letters to form words of various sizes). I deleted most of the other games that came with the phone because they seemed boring, but it would be nice to have another game or two. The game I have inundates me with ads for other games, but although some sound interesting, I don’t have a clue what to get. Do you play a game on your phone? If so, do you mind telling me what it is? (I hesitate to ask because the games we play seem so personal — they tell more about us than we might want others to know.)

Luckily, the weather will improve for a few days to let the mud dry out, so I only have one more hazardous walk to deal with until the middle of next week when icy weather returns.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Posted in Adventure, home, life. Tags: , , , , . Leave a Comment »

The Privilege of Being a Caregiver

January 26, 2022 — Pat Bertram

Occasionally, I have time to read at work when the woman I take care of is napping, but I can’t read anything involving since I need to keep one eye (or ear) open in case she wakes and needs help. So I’ve been reading the forty-year-old Reader’s Digest Condensed books I found on her shelves. I read most of the books in unabridged book form when they were originally published, though I can’t recall many of the stories — that was about 15,000 books ago! I remember the covers, though, as well as the titles and authors, so that’s something, I suppose. Still, whether I’ve read the books before or not, reading them now gives me something to do.

Normally, I wouldn’t bother with the condensed books — it doesn’t take me very long to read a full-length novel, and though I can’t tell when reading the condensed version what has been edited out, I can’t really get into the story. The things that are left out must be the sort of thing that pulls me in and keeps me reading a book at a single sitting, because the condensed versions certainly don’t do that. Sometimes I go for weeks without a chance to read at work, so one of the stories I’m reading can sit there for ages without my being compelled to find out how it ends.

Normally, I wouldn’t have anything to say about condensed books because they simply are not a part of my life, but now they are. Sort of. In the same way that the news and commercials have crept into my life because sometimes I watch Judge Judy or the news with the client, which means lots and lots of commercials.

The good thing about the condensed books is I don’t end up with earworms or brainworms or sticky music or stuck song syndrome from them as I do from the commercials. You know what earworms and all those other terms are: they are all names for the bits of ditties that get stuck in your head that you can’t get out. The term earworm was created over 100 years ago, so apparently, this is an ongoing problem — one I got rid of after I stopped taking dance classes and before I started elder sitting. Oddly, the earworms that most infest my brain are from commercials for various drugs. No wonder people can remember what drugs to ask their doctor about — a whole lot of time and money is spent creating those earworms.

Sometimes I mute the commercial, but that is such an unfair trick to play on the elderly — they have no idea what happened when the sound suddenly stops. So I deal with the earworm, and the condensed books. They are such a small price to pay for the privilege of being a caregiver.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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A Repeat of Today

January 25, 2022 — Pat Bertram

This was a strange day weatherwise. It started out cold, hovering around thirty with still air and sunny skies, but as the morning progressed, fierce winds blew in clouds and colder temperatures. By midafternoon, the temperature had dipped even further, and a few flakes of snow fell. It snowed half-heartedly for a while, dropping perhaps as much as an inch, though it was hard to measure since for the first hour, the snow melted when it hit the ground.

By the time I walked home from work, there was a layer of ice beneath the still falling snow, but the snow was so lackadaisical and the clouds so low, it seemed more like a foggy evening than a snowfall. I made sure to step carefully because of the iciness, though with the heavy tread on my shoes and the help of my trekking poles, I wasn’t in much danger of falling.

A bit further north (more than a bit, actually, perhaps 90 miles due north), the towns got dumped on. Two feet! Amazing what a difference a few miles can make.

We have a respite tomorrow then a repeat of today on Thursday. I mean a repeat of today’s weather, of course, though I wouldn’t mind a repeat of today in other respects, too. It was a nice, easy day — no traumas, no dramas, no . . .

[I paused here to check Google to see if there were any other appropriate words that rhymed with drama and trauma to keep the rhythm going, but I couldn’t find anything except words like mama and llama and comma, which would not make any sense in the context I wanted. However, immediately below “what rhymes with drama” I saw, “What word rhymes with Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis?” I’m cracking up here, wondering why anyone would need to rhyme such an obscure term that supposedly refers to a lung disease caused by silica. For a poem about lung disease? For a bit of poesy in an otherwise prosy essay, such as I was trying to do with my drama/trauma coupling? It boggles the mind!]

I hope your day was as nice as mine. I also hope it included a new word as well as a chuckle or two.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of intriguing fiction and insightful works of grief.

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Lusting After Wanderlust

January 24, 2022 — Pat Bertram

A friend and I had tea together today, which was so nice, we couldn’t figure out why we didn’t do it more often, though the truth is, we are both busy and our schedules don’t often coincide.

We both live alone, and one of the things we talked about was getting feeble and if there would come a time when we would need to text each other (or text someone, anyway) every day to let them know that we are okay. My next-door neighbors pay attention to the shade in my computer room; if it’s up, they know I’m awake and okay. If it’s closed in the morning or the lights don’t come on at night, they will text me to make sure I’m okay, so I do have that bit of security. More than a bit, actually. It’s very comforting to know that my neighbors would notice if something happened to me.

My friend and I soon decided to change the subject because it was too depressing talking about getting feebler, and besides, it didn’t really seem all that relevant because both of us were feeling good today. Good meaning no real problems. Good meaning not old. Good meaning feeling the way we always did.

Walking home, there was even a spring in my step, and it seemed as if I could do anything I used to do. Until I turned on the computer at home and saw photos from a hiking group I belong to and never unjoined because it seemed too much like giving up. Seeing those photos of various individuals walking on trails way beyond civilization, gave me a bad case of wanderlust.

I might still feel as if I can do what I used to, but the truth is, hiking alone in the wilderness is out of the question. But oh, I do miss those adventures! There was nothing like it, being out alone among the rocks or trees, following a trail wherever it led, nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other and breathe in the freedom. Although I wish I lived closer to a wilderness area, as I did when I lived near the desert, or when I spent that summer in Crescent City with a friend who so generously dropped me off at the beginning of a trail and picked me up at the other end, I suppose it’s just as well I don’t live closer. It’s hard enough yearning for wilderness trails that are beyond reach; it would be almost unbearable if the trails were but a hand’s breadth away and yet I couldn’t trust myself to hike alone.

I might feel differently someday. My knees aren’t really giving me any problem, and I’m gradually getting back in the habit of walking (weather and work permitting) so who knows what I’ll be able to do in the future. And who knows what I won’t be able to do since generally people don’t get younger with the passage of time. But I don’t want to think about that.

Still, walking is good. Trying to get into hiking shape is even better. If nothing else, it will give me something to focus on rather than a possibly feeble future.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Posted in Adventure, dealing with old age, life. Tags: , , , , . 2 Comments »

Questioning the Science

January 23, 2022 — Pat Bertram

A couple of days ago, I saw a comment by a bestselling author who was rather scathing about people who question “the science.” It kind of took me aback because it seemed so . . . ignorant. Science is all about questioning. If it weren’t for questions, there would be no science. It’s the search for answers to those questions that create what we call “science.” Although some questions seem to have been answered, such as why an apple falls (though “gravity” itself still inspires questions) and if the sun is the center of the universe, there are others that haven’t been answered and perhaps never will be, such as what the universe is made of, how life began, what makes us human, what is consciousness, and a whole slew of other questions that make people try to reach beyond what they know.

According to Nasa Space Place, “Science consists of observing the world by watching, listening, observing, and recording. Science is curiosity in thoughtful action about the world and how it behaves.” It also says, “Science is not just a tidy package of knowledge. Science is not just a step-by-step approach to discovery. Science is more like a mystery inviting anyone who is interested to become a detective and join in the fun.”

Nowadays, though, “science” has reached the level of dogma, something that is incontrovertibly true, and anyone who dares question that dogma is branded a heretic. Of course, the word “heretic” isn’t used because it smacks of religion, and science isn’t religion, it’s . . . science. Or so they want you to believe. You’re not allowed to do your own thinking because . . . science. You’re not allowed to question the doctrine they’re foisting on you because . . . science.

But nothing is incontrovertibly true, not even truth (whatever that might be).

Supposedly, there are whole rooms full mysteries in the dark corners of the Smithsonian that don’t fit current theories about evolution, prehistory, whatever. Science only gives us the best possible explanation for observable phenomenon, and science can be manipulated to fit the scientist’s bias and, more probably, to fit the bias of the government or corporation funding the science.

Getting on a soapbox wasn’t my point in writing this piece, however. What prompted this essay is that yesterday, the day after I read that author’s comment, I saw her latest offering among the new books at the library. By habit, I reached out for it, because she was an author I sometimes read, but I couldn’t touch it. She’s nothing special and rather predictable, but that’s not why I could not force myself to pick up the book. It was the memory of her scathing remark about the stupidity of people who question the science.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in books, culture, history/myth, life. Tags: , , , , , . 9 Comments »
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