The thermometer in the office window reads 35°F. The back porch shows 31°F. The coldest I saw last night was 26°F, though the airport reported 17°F. Thank goodness for sheltered locations.
Three hours or so before water pressure returns. If pipes are frozen, it might not make a difference, and a busted pipe might not be immediately apparent. I won’t have long to find out if I can dump all this water that I’m holding at any time soon.
I think I’ll have lasagna for lunch. I’ve been eating from the fridge and snack bin, easy fare, easy clean. I haven’t had any of the fancier fares from the freezer. And I haven’t even begun to think about what comes next Classic shortsightedness. Not that I’m worried about it. Options I possess in plenty.
I expect to see the remnants of sleet and freezing rain vanish from 90% of the landscape today. Go away, ugly stuff.
Myka is on her aerie in the front room, greeting the morning sun.
…
…
I started the truck, let it idle to warm, then took it around the block. Everything was hunky dory. I’ll have no problem making a store run when time comes. For now, I’m still waiting for the water to be turned back on. That takes priority.
11:30, 48°F in the window, 46°F on the back porch. Wind is light out of the south. It’s blue skies, sunny. The sleet and ice are vanishing steadily. Icicles drip and get smaller, the little ones on the trees drop like rain.
…
Well, the water is back on, but nothing is flowing. The pipes froze. Don’t know if they burst yet. It’s a waiting game now.