Notes from Maine - 2025/01/26
My plans were thwarted last Sunday. I had a new-in-box Range Hood to set up so I could space out the final upper kitchen cabinets. I’m capitalizing “Range Hood” because it’s the last major appliance that I’m going to install in the kitchen. It feels like a big accomplishment. After pulling the Range Hood from the box, Mom suggested we plug it in to be sure it worked. It didn’t. Only one of the fans would turn. Aside from that, one of the steel sides was dented and the corner bulging. The thing had been aggressively dropped at some point. The box looked okay, but the foam packing was cracked. I suppose it’s like a brain in a football helmet—even without obvious external damage, the internals can get rattled beyond repair.
Took it back and asked Lowe’s to order another one for me. They said no. I had ordered it online and that’s what I had to do again. I guess I should have taken my business elsewhere, but I had already done my research and I knew what I wanted. Besides, I had all the measurements for that particular unit, so I had enough information to start building the cabinet it would hang from.
Now that the cabinet is up, all I have to do is wait another four or five days for the replacement Range Hood to arrive. I can only hope that it will be undamaged. Mom has been putting more polyurethane on the lower doors and drawers. They look great. She’s also working on ceilings, which are her least favorite thing to paint.
Five more days left in January. I don’t mind this month—it never did anything wrong to me, really. Actually, now that I say that, there was a pretty bad January storm 25 years ago. I lived up in Belgrade and an ice storm snapped a giant pine tree in half and sent the top of it toppling down and smashing through a window. My father and I were looking after my grandmother. We had the tree cleared and the window boarded up in an hour or so, but it took a week to find all the glass. It was everywhere.
The power was out for ten days? Eleven? It was more than a week. We had a generator but Dad was sticking to a strict schedule of turning it off in the evening and expecting me to get up at 4am to turn it back on. At least we had a generator, even if I had to get out of bed when it was just above freezing in my bedroom, turn on the generator, and then wait an hour for the place to heat up enough to take a lukewarm shower.
Aside from that storm in 1998, I usually like January just fine. It’s February that bums me out. Around here it feels like both the shortest and longest month. Somehow it’s always dark, gloomy, and hopeless. Maybe this year will be better, but I’m bracing myself for a bad time.
Albert (dog) has two more days of soft foods and then another appointment at the vet for a checkup after his dental cleaning. Albert is not a huge fan of food in general, but he seems to particularly hate soft food. Every time he goes to the vet he’s almost precisely 100 pounds (45 kg). When I give him the food he likes the best (maybe hates the least?), he rarely finishes it. There’s no time for eating when he has to go find his friend (raccoon squeaky toy), chase a frisbee, or bark at anyone pulling into the driveway. Life is short and Albert has no intention of wasting time by eating food. Before Finn died, sometimes Albert would eat his food just so that Finn wouldn’t get it. Without competition, what’s the point?
Speaking of Albert, one of the frisbees is currently missing. It was cold the other morning and I threw a second one before he had released the first. Albert took a frisbee with him when he went to get a frisbee. He’s not accomplished at picking up two at once, so he left one. Below a certain temperature, his nose isn’t great, so when I sent him back out he couldn’t find it again. It will turn up eventually, but it means that now we have to do a strict routine every time he returns. With only one frisbee, he has to bring it, drop it, and then back up enough for me to throw it again. It’s much easier when I’m ready to throw the second when he’s returning the first. It’s just a new rhythm. In a few days it won’t matter—right now we’re only using the soft frisbees because of his teeth.
Five more days until February. Technically, I suppose it’s six. I can’t wait.
