Curse of the Blowfly

I hate flies. Most don't bite and they don't sting, but I still hate them. They are the personification of filth and putrescence, Beelzebub's vile minions. Blowflies are particularly odious since their favorite foods are shit and decomposing bodies. Rotting meat and foodstuff will suffice though.


About four weeks ago, the Devil Queen started filling up with blowflies. In the few years that Devil Queen has defiled our life, she has experienced a number of infestations and invaders: wasps, king snakes, bats, scorpions, mice, more wasps, moths and even more wasps. Sure, an occasional fly has made it in from time to time, but we've never been overrun with them. What makes it even stranger is that the Devil Queen is sealed up better than she ever has been since we've had her.

It started with a couple of blowflies in the laundry room which I promptly killed. The next day there were a few more which I also killed. This pattern continued for a couple of days. After another orgy of fly crushing, I remember thinking, "wow, this has got to be a bad omen."

The day after that, I came home from work to find all the clocks flashing since the power had briefly gone out. For Russellville, Arkansas, this is not an odd occurrence. I've lived all over the US and traveled around the world, but Russellville (Pope County in general) is the only place I've been where the electrical service was intermittent. No thunderstorms, acts of God, or accidents are required. The power will randomly go off for a few seconds and surge back on with no preamble. This happens at least once every couple of weeks, and it has done so for years. Entergy Arkansas, thank you for the rate hikes and the poor service; you have made my dream of living in a third world county a reality.

One of the great things about these outages, is the power surge that follows when the current returns. Light bulbs, appliances, and other electronics have fallen victim over the years.

I think you probably see where I'm going with this. Later that night, I went to wash some clothes for work, and the washer wouldn't power up. You could hit the power button all you wanted, but nothing happened. That is what everyone wants out of a $650, two-year old machine, right? Yes, the warrantee has expired. We checked.

I also checked the breaker box and the outlet. It was definitely the machine.

After that, the blowflies kept coming and things got worse. The bay window room was randomly swarmed by wasps after a few freakishly warm days. Then the house was broken into and we were robbed.

The flies got even worse after this, but I suspect this was because our front door was standing wide open for at least a few hours. Really, I was probably lucky that pack of coyotes or a mound of hibernating rattle snakes hadn't moved in by the time I got home. Even so, I was getting very tired of killing 10, 15, or 20 blowflies every day. What is even weirder is that they didn't go for any of the stuff you'd think they would. I never saw one anywhere near the cat's liter box or the kitchen trash can. They seem to like the windows in the laundry room, the living room, and the bedrooms.

And now, just over two weeks later, I'm still finding the occasional blowfly, one here, one there.

I'm hoping the curse may be lifting though. Sunday, just for the hell of it, I went and hit the power button on the washing machine. It turned on. I was too suspicious to try it out though. I have visions of it shutting down mid-load with a drum full of water and the door lock, which I suspect is 100% electric, jammed shut. Forever.

I asked Jack, our electronics guru, about it. He said that a lot of new appliances have thermal switches which automatically turn the machine off when they get too hot. His theory is the power surge tripped the switch and it hadn't reset by the time I came home. So far, that sounds good to me. I certainly don't have any answers.

Maybe if the blowflies are all gone by the weekend I'll try running a load.

Or maybe not. I'm not feeling lucky.

Maybe It's the House?

The other day, I went to visit my sister at her house after work. This time of year, I have to drive directly into the setting sun, so I had my sunglasses on when I got there. My sister was out in the yard and gave me an odd look as approached her house. After I got out of the car, she said, "whoa, for a second there, I had no idea who you were. You looked like that sheriff, the Devil, in O Brother Were Art Thou?"

Nice. I guess I can see a semblance. I blame the Devil Queen. I think it's getting to me. Maybe it's time to move?

Home Improvement Apocrypha

I found this while cleaning out some home improvement rat-holes in the living room. It is a 6" x 4" post card, drawn and painted by me. In an effort to de-clutter the house and raise funds for drum sanders, I'm offering it for sale. If you'd like to make an offer, email me.

The Beast Lives Forever More

Well, after only four years, we have a fully functional plumbing system, or so I thought.

We'd been having trouble with our clawfoot tub drain. It really wasn't too big of a problem if you didn't use the tub. Since we now have two working sinks in the master bathroom, we no longer had to wash our hands in the tub, so this wasn't a problem for me. However, my wife has this obscene fetish for soaking in a hot bath with gobs of girly, good smelling herbs and oils. While our jet-tub is fully operational, something about pumping a milk bath with essential oils through the self-heating jet system just didn't sound like a good idea.

So, she demanded that the clawfoot tub be fixed. Otherwise, she proposed tearing the whole master bathroom off the house since it "never seemed to fucking work." I am not kidding. And, I think that she was serious.

Fearful, I called Russ at All Plumbing and asked him to come back to house and fix the drain. He said he'd be out in a couple weekends at 9 AM. He never showed. I called and left a message. He called back and left a message. And, so it went. Normally, I wouldn't have put that much effort into it, but he'd done such a professional job on two previous occasions that I figured missing the appointment was a fluke. Finally, Scarlet talked to him, and he came out and fixed the drain. And, he didn't charge us since "you already paid me to fix it once, so it ought to have been fixed." Great! There was much rejoicing and a hecatomb was sacrificed to the plumbing devil.

Scarlet goes to take her long anticipated soak after a truly suck-ass week at work. She complained that the water wasn't hot enough, and, after a empirical test to prove to me that the hot water heater at the rear of the house made hotter water than the master bathroom system, I went under the house and turned up the thermostat on the offending heater. And, defying all expectations, the water actually got colder. It went from sort of hot to lukewarm. No, I didn't accidentally turn the thermostat down either. I checked.

So, what's the problem? I do not know. I think the heater may need a higher amp breaker. My dad also suggested that due to the length of the run from the breaker box to the heater that we may need to replace the line with a higher gauge wire. Scarlet thinks it might be a bum water heater.

Any suggestions from you clever DIY types? If you have some, let me know.

Plumbing is the Devil.

Someone Is At The Door

I thought it was just me.

For the last year or so, I've had this reoccurring dream. I never remember the dream, but I will suddenly wake up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding. The last thing I remember before waking is the sound of someone violently pounding on a door's glass pane. The sound of their hand beating on the glass is very distinct, the tempo of the fist-falls are fast. Urgent.

I look at the clock. It's usually between three and three-thirty in the morning. Other times, I wake with no memory of anything at all, but it is at roughly the same time. 3:12 AM. 3:23 AM. 3:33 AM. Restless sleep and waking.

The house is invariably silent. Nothing stirs. I drift into a fit-full sleep.

I mention my insomnia to Scarlet. She jokes it's the Devil's Hour and tells me I ought to watch The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Thank you, but no.

A month or more ago, Scarlet was dreaming. Gideon was in the dream, and he suddenly turns to her and says, "There's someone at the door."

Scarlet wakes up. The house is silent. Then, someone starts beating on the Devil Queen's front door. It's loud and sharp. Scarlet is worried they'll break the glass they are beating so hard. The door rattles in its frame. It's urgent, insistent in a way that says something is wrong. Fire. Death. Disaster.

The house is quite. There are no footfalls on the porch. There is no sound of someone running away from the house on the gravel driveway. No one is there. Scarlet lays awake for a little and falls back to sleep.

Over breakfast Scarlet says, "I think we have another ghost. Have you heard the knocking on the front door?"

I tell her yes, but that I thought it was a dream. She tells me about her experience.

She sips her coffee. "How do you sleep here all the time?" she asks. "After a weekend here, I'm more tired than after a full week of work."

"You get use to it," I shrug, "but a lot of times I don't."

Synchronicity

Plumbing is the Devil, but, for once, I have found a leak that I just don't care about at all. Really. Last night, I was cleaning out the master bedroom closet when I found this.

I thought, "Oh fuck."

I run my hand down the hot water line out of the heater. The copper to cpvc coupling is wet, the joint is leaking very, very slowly. "Well that looks like it's been there for a while (note dry watermarks on the floor to the right of the heater).

I wonder if this is where the water from our mystery drip was coming from last . . . August? Well, no point in turning it off I guess. I mean, I'll need to take a shower tomorrow morning (technically later this morning?). Besides, the plumber is going to be here tomorrow anyway. Perfect timing. How is that for some fucking luck for once? Screw this, I'm going to bed."

How is that for prescience? Didn't I say something about water heaters flooding the house yesterday? Now, the question is: will the plumber show?

I AM THE DEVIL AND I HAVE COME TO DO THE DEVIL'S WORK

Just incase you're wondering, if you search Google with the keywords used in the title above, the Devil Queen is one of the top 40 hits you'll get. Just thought you should know.

My wife wants the dining room floor to be refinished before Thanksgiving since we're having the whole family, well at least 30 of them, over for the holiday. I want the dining room floor refinished by October. With a group of willing slaves volunteers, we may get it taken care of in time. Worth a shot, right?

If I (we?) accomplish this, I'd like to also refinish the floors in the main hall and the living room by Thanksgiving. That would only leave the three bedrooms to do if I pulled it off.

And, to whom ever in Detroit, Michigan, has been reading the Devil Queen archives in their entirety over the last few days, greetings. I hope you've enjoyed them.

The Devil is in the Air

When life gets chaotic, I turn to houseblogs for some therapeutic distraction.

I stumbled across this blog, The Devils of Loudun, today. I like the name for obvious reasons.

My wife and I have talked about living in France, so this blog gives me the perfect vehicle to vicariously live out my frustrated dreams without much effort. What can I say? I just don't have as much energy as I once did.

This is the kind of adventure I had in mind for myself many years ago. However, I don't know if I am up to the challenge to be honest. Maybe this reflects more on my state of mind than my abilities, but I just don't think I have enough skill and fortitude to restore an old house like this AND undertaking it in a foreign country and language. Just thinking about it long enough to write that last sentence used up my energy reserves for the day. I'm exhausted.

Anyhow, take a look if you have a chance. The house was last "updated" in 1847 and has hand-cut stone tiles (except for the rest of the house with a packed dirt floor). And you thought pulling out that 1970's shag carpet was bad.