G. Burly and his intrepid crew returned today to test the tank. They filled it up and left. I drew a chalk line. I went back an hour later.
The water level was the same.
They returned a while later to clean up the site, and turned the project on. They left.
Four hours later, it is still running.
Frankly, I don’t know what to feel. If this is indeed the end, it’s anticlimactic; I either expected someone to blow it up or toss a virgin in the pit or dig a little and tap a gusher, or something. For them to just leave and have the thing work seems deeply unsatisfying. On the other hand, if this week’s work – nay, the last two days’ work – solved the problem, then this means the problem was always the top tank liner. Always. As in “seven weeks ago.” As in “last autumn.” They found three leaks in the top tank, due to lousy worksmanship. Once they decided that patching was no longer an option, they replaced the liner – a two-man, two-afternoon job.
Why am I not filled with gratitude and relief?
I’m dead inside, that’s the only possible answer. This thing killed my heart. I am officially anhedonic.
It’s been a busy week here at the site, no? Seems like it. Mediocre food, but such large portions! I’ve actually felt relaxed the last few days; Gnat’s had playdates and parties, and I’ve been able to step outside the clock & calendar, and do strange heedless things like go to the Mall for a haircut at 4:45 PM. I know, I know: what’s next? Dancing in the Plaza fountain? Part of my good mood has been due to the Element, which I have fallen in love with absolutely, naysayers be damned. (Gently.) Yes, it’s a rather polarizing design, and yes, part of my enjoyment has to do with several non-car things such as the free (so far) satellite radio. You don’t realize how much you hate commercial radio until you don’t hear commercials and you don’t hear the same old songs and you don’t hear commercials and you do not, as well, hear the SAME COMMERCIALS you’ve heard six times an hour for the last two years. The talk radio selections chew the wax tadpole, though.
The haircut was quick and cheap, and this time I had a well put-together stylist who did not seem to give off waves of regrettable but largely unexamined backstory. I read an article in the Weekly Standard about the Ahmadinejad letter. The stylist wanted to talk, but for once I didn’t. Because I have a bad feeling about this, as George Lucas wrote. (Six fargin’ times.)
I wrote some more about Ahmadinejad, but decided to take it to the Screedblog for Monday. This has been building up for a long, long time. I’ve been pushing it aside, but I something snapped today. Probably because of this.
Anyway, that’s it for me this week. And by “that’s it” I mean there’s also a 36 minute Diner, if you’re so inclined. The link below takes you to the MP4 version with fancy embedded graphics. (Having big problems with the MP3 link tonight, and it's late - forgive me. I'll be up by noon, I hope.) Subscribing via iTunes is recommended, because, well, it helps me in the ratings, eventually. This is episode #20 in the 06 run – not bad, eh? I’ve also added the old 1997 Diner website, which makes me feel old and sad in a way, but also very happy: we did accomplish a lot of nonsense in a short period of time. This week I start digitizing the old tapes, so the Diner97 should be up by the middle of the summer. They’ll be out of order and unlabeled, since I can’t bear to listen to them. Can’t stand to listen to anything I do. (Never read my own books, either. Been there, done that, NEXT.)
See you Monday! Thanks for showing up this week; more to come. Excelsior!
PS It’s midnight. The waterfall still runs.