I know you’ve been anxiously awaiting an update on the health of my cottage appliances (probably as anxiously as you’ve been anticipating a sequel to Beetlejuice, which may be arriving at a screen near you soon). The good news is the zombie dishwasher remains mostly undead, as long as I whisper encouraging dish-cleaning words and perform a highly exact ritual involving pressing an elaborate sequence of sacred buttons (which the dishwasher feels free to alter at will).
When it’s not agreeing to perform its purpose in life according to my wishes, the door must not be completely closed because otherwise its zombie alter-ego will launch unbidden into some complicated wash cycle that oozes suds onto the wood floor. Anyhow, at the risk of jinxing it, I think the dishwasher will limp along until close-up and get placed firmly on the list of problems for future me (that is, if there is still room on that list). And I hope the same will be true about the water heater.
You may recall the unfortunate hot water heater incident in the spring of 2023. The heater element was replaced and everything was fine until the day, not too long ago, when the hot water went AWOL. The brand-newish heating element had burned out. And I swear I was nowhere in the vicinity. A trip to town ensued. I was previously unaware, but just for fun, the people who make hot water heaters require a special, single purpose, wrench to remove and insert the heating element. I would bet you $20 (because that’s what they cost) if you happened to visit Home Depot to pick one up, in order to enable said element to be able to do so what it professes it can do, the spot on the shelf where the wrench is supposed to be would be completely empty.
But that’s where the kindness of cottage friends and neighbours comes in handy. After only 144 calls to the contacts in the Rolodex listed under ‘people with plumbing odds and ends no more than a half-hour boat ride away,’ a borrowed hot water heater wrench was secured. And hot water flowed once again. And all was right with the world.
On another topic, it took me a while to figure out the hummingbirds had departed. I finally noticed, after a five-day absence, the water level in the feeder had not budged. So down it came until next year. I hope they don’t gossip too much about me on the way south. Like about the time I had the audacity to refill the container precisely at lunch time (which seems to be 24/7 in hummingbird land) and was subject to indignant helicoptering outside the kitchen window. Or the time the raccoons hijacked the feeder, leaving it mortally injured, leaching out its final drops of life on the gravel pathway. And we shall never mention the absent-minded mix-up of the sugar to water ratio, at least in earshot of a hummingbird.
In my opinion, the world of September is always a gift. Warm sunny days. Coolish (but not necessarily long-pants-cool, please not yet) nights. No tubers! NO BUGS! Sooner than I’d like, the ceremonial homeward march of the condiments will begin. But not today.