A significant portion of the last couple of weeks of January was devoted to sleeping, eating, and working in shifts to cover flushing the loo 24/7 to prevent our water line freezing. We'll be on patrol again this coming Monday and Tuesday nights, when lows are predicted to fall to single digits.
We have long since concluded whoever was responsible for the layout of Maywrite Towers did not completely consider the effect of winter weather on the structure as demonstrated by the fact they routed not only the water line and drains but also the hydronic heating pipes through a north-facing crawl space.
When frigid weather comes down the pike as it inevitably will at this time of year, and especially when accompanied by high winds, kitchen and bathroom taps left dripping overnight and a water line lagged and fitted with heat tape come into their own.
But sometimes those precautions are not sufficient. Proverbially we are warned to beware of a silent dog and still water. During our first winter in residence we found out the hard way this aqueous advice was right, for there came a night below zero with unbelievable wind chill values when we suddenly realised the well pump was no longer making its sharp click as it turned on and off, signalling the water line had frozen. (A more solid clunk indicates the power's gone out, leading to the same result. Those occupying an older house soon learn to read its various noises.) On this occasion, heat gun in one hand, torch in the other, and swathed to Michelin Man proportions, Eric trundled out into bitterly cold darkness to squirm into the crawl space -- a well-named location given it's only a couple of feet high -- to deal with the problem.
The same blockage happened the following night.
Experience is an excellent teacher so ever since we take shifts flushing the loo every hour on the hour around the clock during the worst spells of frigid weather. So far this winter it hasn't been necessary for him to brave that cold, dark place again. And just as well, given it's the home of enormous spiders, one or two of which have successfully stormed the ground floor of Maywrite Towers. Those intruders did not, shall we say, hang about the place long. To avoid the possibility of upsetting subscribers with arachnophobia, I shall not describe the awfulness of these unwanted visitors except to mention they are larger than any arachnid has the right to be. Unfortunately, they seem unaffected by extreme cold. Which is a pity, because we've just weathered a couple of weeks featuring successive days well below freezing and nights sprinkled with single-digit readings with an occasional sub-zero temperature tossed into the mix.
Our prize exhibit so far this year is the unforgettable night when the thermometer dipped to minus 14*F. On the other hand, when lows during the dark hours are forecast to be 15*F or higher, both shifts are able to retire to bed at the same time, the well pump clicking on and off a reassuring lullaby since it means the water line's still flowing.
