Went to the basement early this morning and thought maybe I smelled gas. Took a shower (how dead can you get?), which clear my sinuses, and went back to check.
Yep. Very localized. That's the good news.
Gas company showed up with a sniffer and pro-grade bubble soap (it's the touch of corn syrup that does it). De nada. So he did a pressure test.
Yep. Pressure drop. He shut off the gas. That's the bad news.
I went calling for a gas plumber and it took two hours of looking to find one who could come out today. Gas company, probably won't see them back 'til Monday -- if we can fix the problem. That's bad news, too.
Also, I'm losing a day's pay, which I kinda ain't got.
One bright spot, the gasman did get the stove out of its niche and showed me how to open up the top -- I hadn't been able to get it to release. So it's not running, but at least it's clean now.
Heck with that -- ever hear of Mean Mary? Somewhere at the intersection of old traditional folk songs, country and Wyndham-Hill-type acoustic is where you'll find her. It's a good sound. Iron Horse hauls some traditional approaches to the "lonesome train" trope out to the woodsdhed and puts 'em to work. Wherefore Art Thou Jane reminds me of a certain redhead.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago