The problem piece was what's called the tailpiece, that piece of drain pipe that comes out of the bottom of your kitchen sink drain and leads down to the sink trap before all your leftover water disappears into the floor. I'd noticed some dripping in the basement below that sink, and while I initially thought the cold water feed line might be leaking, I found out the real situation when the locking collar nut around the tailpiece self-destructed in my hand as I tried tightening it up, corroded through by years of exposure to the old well water, which tended to be acidic. Drain water was pretty much free to dribble down the pipe and onto and through the floor.
Lowe's had a wide array of 12-inch and six-inch tailpieces in both chrome and plastic, but of course I needed an eight-inch. Found one, but could not find any without a special little side pipe intended for use with a dishwasher we ain't got. I picked up a small plastic cap with it and we headed to the register, only to find that not only was every self-checkout register fouled up, some dimwit woman was clogging up the shortest line because not a single one of her credit cards was working right. And the equally-dimwitted cashier ended up getting on the phone with someone every time each of the cards bombed.
How hard would it have been to just pay cash, or say scruit and come back for your pretentious-looking fencing some other time? Or, for the cashier, maybe say, "how's about you pay cash, or come back some time after you've paid your credit-card bills? There are ten people waiting."
Nobody thinks like that, apparently.
There's been another Othercat hanging outside the house for a few days. I gave her some smelly food and she let me pet her some, but she seems skittish and doesn't wanna be all that friendly. It doesn't help that Nora, despite the ninety times I've warned her not to let cats out, keeps letting Gina out, and Gina has decided it's her personal job to growl at this new cat. They're out there right now, whining at each other out on the porch. I'll go out and lecture Gina shortly, but for right now, I'll let her feel important.
We also have Simba now, a cat formerly cared for by Nora's ex-boyfriend, a guy who was ready to take Simba to the shelter rather than put up with him peeing in certain unauthorized places. Not that we smile upon that here, but we're sort of used to it and take appropriate measures to address it. Simba seems much happier to be here, but his manners when there's any form of meat around are sort of crude... he doesn't understand the concept of "get down" the way the longtime cats do. This was more of an issue tonight because I was making beef jerky and Simba was intensely interested in playing with the dehydrator. I am staying up late enough to make sure the damn thing doesn't hit the floor and scatter dried meat all over everywhere.
The upgrades and hacks on the AppleTV are still going strong. Right now Nora's MacBook is recording Ken Burns' new film, The War. Hers can record at a higher datarate than my machines, and it transcodes faster when you're prepping video for the AppleTV. And hers isn't even as fast as the newest ones... rumors of an aluminum-encased MacBook with a faster CPU abound, but for me, money is going into paying bills and working on the house. There are enough CPU cycles around this place already, at least for now.
I also finally wired the subwoofer into the TDI's new sound system. Alex Van Halen's drums on the beginning of "Hot For Teacher" sound like they're going to blow the windows out at any moment.
As they should.
Max just climbed up on the couch and sat next to me, which he usually doesn't do right now. This part of the evening is normally his brat period, where he chases the older cats around the house and wrestles with them. They're pretty much all sick of him. I'm not.