Thursday, November 21, 2013

The Overnighter

Those of you who heat with wood know what an "overnighter" is.   To those who do not, it is a big fat chunk of unsplit wood that will burn for hours.  Well, last night it was predicted to get cold here.  I'm actually typing this at 2:15 AM on Thursday morning and our overnighter is snuffed.  It went out.  It didn't burn. It is 16 degrees outside, and 60 inside our cozy little Unabomber Cabin.

In order for an overnighter to burn, the stove has to have a lot of coals and a good draft.  Our stove has a problem with draft.  Not only is there about 20 feet of stove pipe, but it has three 90 degree bends, one coming out of the stove, one going through the wall of the cabin, and one outside of the cabin.  Done properly, there would be no bends at all, and the stove pipe would rise directly out of the stove and go straight up through the roof.

But that's not how it was done, so we have to deal with it.

In government news, I had a telephone call on Friday telling me that I had to appear in Albany on Monday the 18th for a social security disability physical.  I've been retired anyway, but as part of my being hit on the head with a tree and having no insurance fiasco, Albany Medical Center wanted me to apply for disability, which means I would be covered by Medicare, which ordinarily you have to be 65 to receive.  I'm 63.  If you are disabled, you can apparently qualify for Medicare at a younger age, retroactively.  Since I always play by the rules, I went.

When I arrived at the designated doctor's office, the receptionist asked me for my paperwork.  What paperwork?  The paperwork I was mailed.  Well, I didn't receive any paperwork.  The indignant receptionist handed me paperwork to fill out, which I did, and I had my two minute physical.  No, I have no idea what the verdict is on this.

In yesterday's mail, on Wednesday the 20th, I had a letter from social security telling me about my appointment on the 18th and with forms to fill out.  It was post marked the 18th.  Yes, correct.  My letter telling me that I had a doctor's appointment on the 18th was mailed on the 18th.

And people have their panties in a twist over  Cripe, forget technology and Al Gore's Internets, the government can't even get Ben Franklin's US mail right.

I guess they must still be working the bugs out.

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