Box of Disappointment

 

The refit of Xanadu continues without help from Rush, Olivia, ELO, or Coleridge. A box of disappointment arrived today. I ordered it last week. I should've known better than to order through P. Andora Co. How did I come to request this delivery of dismay?

It's not a long story, but it goes back to before we closed on the new digs. When male offspring came to have a look at the place, we happened to look at the furnace filter. It looked like a bad and fatal case of black lung. Fortunately, there was a new filter sitting by the unit and we swapped in the clean one. After closing and move in, I thought it would be prudent to acquire an additional filter for change in the future. I noted the size on the old filter and went to the local hardware store to procure the ready replacement. 

I thought it would also be prudent to make sure the standby filter fit properly. <Morgan Freeman voice begin> It did not fit. <Morgan Freeman voice end> I compared the sizes as printed on the filters. They were the same. However, small print indicated the new filter was several millimeters bigger in the troublesome dimension. The local store gladly took the return of the filter, and I went online to find filters that matched down to the millimeter. Not-the-Nile store made the order easy and the delivery arrived within an entirely acceptable time frame. It's a box of six, because the filters are much cheaper by the half-dozen.

Once again, I decided to check the fit. It did not fit.

What?! The measurements all corresponded precisely--I had ordered the same exact size--but the fit was off by more than an inch, not mere millimeters. I had a big box of regret, failure in a six-pack.

There was a mystery here. A little investigation and a tape measure provided the clues I needed. Both the original black lung filter and the handy spare had been cut down from the size printed on them to remove a couple inches, and then reassembled, still bearing the now-false printed size. I suppose that if the previous owner could resize the filters, so can I. However, I would have preferred to have ordered the correct size and avoided the manual resizing.

By the way, I know where you can get a good deal on some furnace filters. 

I've saved the best for last.

There is good news. Out of the blue--even though I had been hoping for a response for many weeks--came a thunderbolt of fortuity. Raconteur Press has informed me that my sequel to Accidental Pirates has been accepted for publication. Of course, there will be rounds of editing and cover creation and all the tedious stuff in between the conditional acceptance and the final product, but I've already heard words of joy from happy readers who have fallen in love with Chris and Kenny and their adventures. Get Accidental Pirates here.

Wait! There's more! I was on the Blasters & Blades podcast with JR Handley and Jana Brown this week. I don't know how long before it goes live, but I'll post a link when it does.

Refitting Xanadu

The good ship Xanadu, as I'm currently calling it, complete with stately pleasure dome and caves of ice but no sign of Olivia Newton John, possesses no dearth of dings demanding attention. Yesterday repairs to the vessel consumed most of the day. I don't quite remember where it began, but I recall correcting a faucet nozzle early in the process. The main task was a minor matter by most standards: a sheet rock and insulation issue where water had damaged it under previous ownership. 

I had the foresight to pick up a roll of insulation during the week. I didn't have the prescience to pick up a utility knife. I knew that I had such a tool, so never thought about getting one. The removal of the bad gypsum was mostly accomplished by gravity before I touched it. A good jerk and the rest of it came down. I removed the remaining nails, measured the hole, and transferred the measurements to the replacement sheet rock that was already on hand. During the course of these events, I did trash the ruined drywall and swept the area multiple times. Gravity was the culprit. The hole was horizontal rather than vertical and up rather than down relative to the floor. The insulation that had been blown in would sometimes catch a gravity wave and make the less than 2 foot fall to the floor upon which I had to lay to accomplish many parts of the task.

With the replacement marked, I looked for my utility knife in vain. I still don't know where it is. I know where it used to be. I kept it on the bench in the garage - of course, that place is over 300 miles away, and I know it's not there now, what with it getting packed when we moved. One would expect the purchase of a utility knife to be a quick and simple affair. Mostly it was. There were many to choose from, but I selected one that already had my name on it. With a slightly arched handle, it felt good in my hand, like some deadly ninja device, and promised not to cause more pain to me than to the target material. 

It was the assembly that gave me troubles. No blade had been loaded. There were blades inside; I heard them rattle when I shook the tool. They were cleverly hidden within the device that was as easily cracked as a Herring Hall & Marvin. I managed. It would seem like an easy matter to install the new blade into the knife. It wasn't. I tried about 30 times to get the blade to seat properly in the knife so that it could be properly extended and retracted with the thumb-operated control. The two pieces of hardware refused to cooperate. I don't know what I did differently, but on the 30th, or perhaps I exaggerate and it was only the 28th try, the planets aligned and must've I held my mouth just right.

The knife cut very well, and I didn't make a mess of the drywall or the insulation that I cut with it. The planets really had aligned, and I kept holding my mouth just so. In only slightly less time than they took to build the pyramids of Egypt, I had the gypsum sheet cut and screwed in place. I followed that job with replacing the 8 foot long florescent light tubes--having discovered the replacement tubes being concealed beneath the fallen sheet rock--and again demonstrated my ninja-like proficiency with the utility on the remaining gypsum board to cut a cover for the attic crawl space.

The storage room shelves required a supporting actor for their monotonous performance, so I auditioned a 2x2 for that role. The actor required some attention in the form of measuring, marking, and cutting with the circular saw before final casting. Upon completion of those actions, it seemed like a decent match. A few pointers from the screw gun made it fit the role perfectly.

I experimented with refrigerator and freezer options as well as parking options, finding success with the former but not the latter.

Meanwhile, the co-captain of the ship pursued her own agenda. She got a lot of boxes unloaded, and drafted me for a preliminary rearrangement of the furniture, during which we discovered that pianos are not very flexible. If only it were an accordion.

________________ 

 Here's the latest AI copy from the persons or scammers contacting me about Accidental Pirates:

What makes this novel compelling is the immediacy of its premise, two brothers, a simple summer outing, a crack in the rock, and suddenly the Caribbean of the 1770s. Pirates, dragonlings, flintlocks, and a fire-breathing Green Lady create the kind of high-stakes wonder that hooks young readers quickly. But beneath the swashbuckling energy is something equally important: brotherhood, courage under pressure, and the quiet transformation that happens when ordinary boys are forced to become heroes. 

It's not bad.