I'm sitting in bed writing, and I hear this odd sound. What is that? I thought. Sort of like running water, but there's not even a pump attached to the well shaft, right?
So I went to the bathroom and the tank is filling!
I went to the window and the pump man's truck is in the driveway. Pretty soon, he (one of the young whippersnappers that do the work now, not the owner) comes to the house with a bill. It's a whole new pump. More on that in a bit.
Not long after that the water was running clear.
I washed dishes.
I cleaned the bathroom (you don't need the before or after shot of that).
I did laundry.
Later, the pump man (owner) called to tell me he was unhappy I was putting hay on for insulation. He wanted straw, because the deer and rabbits will eat the hay. You know what? I can't help it. Hay is what I have.
OK. The bill. I had been told what this would cost, so the sticker shock had already happened. Let's just say that my little misadventure in not getting on top of this problem sooner is having consequences. It's my own dumb fault, but this certainly makes it highly unlikely I'll make my savings goal before I quit the mailroom job.
However, in better news, the Ludington bookstore owner called, and as a result of the newspaper article on Thursday, they have sold out of my books. I'm taking him more tomorrow, and I ordered more. Lots more of this needs to happen for me to be able to write, eat, and drive. So far, I'm doing better than breaking even, but I need for the sales to outpace the expenses a
In other news: I wrote my monthly column. I made some decisions about pre-orders of the children's series. I wrote chapter 6- CANTEENS in The Hitchhiker. Now I'm working on chapter 7.
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