It woiks

It was just as if I knew what I was doing when I took the woodstove’s stack fan apart day before yesterday. Opened up inner soul bared, if I may use the terminology, I vacuumed and dug as much dust of the jungled workings a supposedly fan attached fan motor. Not really clean enough and not wanting to use air to blow it cleaner, I merely pointed the barrel of my repeating oil can at four body parts, maybe over doing it a bit, my wanting to make some oil got somewhere. Sitting my oil can gun aside I spun the fan on its axis, surprised it had turned so freely with but one sloppy treatment. Trial or error time I put it all back together again, plugged it in and took up waiting to see or feel or hear it work. The motor on a thermal switch when hot enough would turn it on. It were going to be a wait to know if my effort was successful if it worked without smoking. The chimney stack plugged back into the wall, I had to be moving on. Outside work don’t we all know.
For the rest of that day and most of yesterday Not here to witness any fan activity when I had come in last night, asking if it had worked, all I got was, “I haven’t heard a thing. I don’t know?” So I settled in for the evening thinking/wondering where I might find a fitting replacement motor. No smoke, no fire, no stink, on the outside the tin flue I settled in for the evening and the eventual night.
Having leaned back in a reclining position after supper, part way though a TV Holiday movie I’m looking across the room, so to speak, and see the new newest cat addition our household. Toting in a Dumpy truck load of wood a couple days ago, half of it handily stacked beside the wood stove, I I thought I was seeing what looked like cat on the woodstove. I spoke to Frieda, “Look at that silly kitten walking on the wood stove. “No she’s not. She’s on the wood pile.” I returned with, “Well of all the… She looks to me as if she’s on the stove and if there’s anything I don’t want is a roasted pussy!” Frieda damned near went into hysterics: red faced, tears washing her cheeks, and nearly rolling off the sofa laughing so long and hard. “Roasted pussy?!” she repeated me and went into hysterics again. Good Lawd, I got to be more careful what I might say.
It was during the night the house supposedly still and silent I heard noises? A humming sound wasn’t the refrigerator, it weren’t the furnace for I hadn’t turned it on, nor was it the TV drowning out my accompanying crickets. Rising I turned one ear this way and that still unable to distinguish from were the “hmmmm” was coming from. To Hell with it for the moment I resumed my water haul. Returning I decided I better put another log on the fire. In doing so I was closer to the hum. Hmm, was it, is it, I stepped along side the stove careful not to roast any of my once important parts, closed the distance between that stack fan and my ear. Eureka! I believe I had found that sweet little hum. To be sure I put my right hand up close to the stack’s discharge side and I felt the soft breeze of warmed air enveloping my whole hand, it worked/works. So quiet as since I can’t remember it ever was so many years ago, With a successful master’s smile I returned to my pallet, goofy Della cat and sleep.
Now, as to the afore mentioned Della cat…………She’s known as Della of whom I written before. Being here for the last 2 ½ years she’s been extremely shy about really get into the mix with this little family. Now enter one little no more than even a handful of a kitten, this last month or so, Della has slowly but surely decided to blend into the fray. Night before last Della joined me on my bed shinning up to me taken to sharing it with me. While she didn’t keep my feet warm she did cozy herself under a free hand for some cuddling. Either Della’s going off her rocker or she taking lessons from watching the kitten. Last night she joined me twice after a couple my water hauls. Crazy cat, being a feline I shan’t try to figure her out.
When I weren’t interrupted I fought those front doors on the upper barn. Getting the damaged track down wasn’t easy. Seems we had welded all the section together put that doubled 26’ track up all in one piece. That wasn’t the way it was going to be today. Finally finding a use for a hand held band saw (Chicago Electric from Harbor Freight) purchased some time ago on sale) I had cut that whole length of track into more easily manageable ¼ pieces. Then I started putting the replacements up replacing the damaged track by myself. From where the original pieces had fallen all I had to do was put the new pieces up without loosing them. A 1”x6” nailed to a beam adjacent to door opening’s left, a piece of plywood “C” clamped to that for midget scaffold, balancing each piece on at a time, I managed to horse the open end up upon that mini scaffold my climbing up a ladder with the open end. With one of the hangers placed over an existing hole I drove a bolt into that existing hole in the barn. Adding the second track I did with it as I had the first. About the time my left knee was screaming pain I had by that time driven three bolts into the barn. By no means ready to take the weight of a rolling door I’ve got the project well in hand just the same. So long as I don’t fall off a ladder tomorrow I may just finish it?
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Oh boy, the second oldest son has called and his pretty little wife wants us to come visit them. I don’t know? Having just been declared legally blind this last week, I think it’d look rather odd my driving along the road ways waving a white cane around feeling my way along. I might better stay closer to home.
Frieda’s been experiencing some dizzy spells. She’d consumed some orange juice today. The juice had straightened her right up. Could it be she’s on the verge of being diabetic? “Rainbows”
Fernan