NaDruWriNi 2022: Mount Washmore
Nov. 5th, 2022 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_siobhanThank you to ysilme for the name. I'm not sure this was entirely what you had in mind.
Today ended up being fairly successful in the get-shit-done department. I have one load of laundry I'll have to do tomorrow to be completely finished. The other task I set myself was to get the bank accounts and bills sorted since that's been hanging over my head for a while.
Our washing machine is new, it’s one of those “smart” machines that connects to the internet. So when I put in the last load of the alerts came up on the screen and a woman’s voice read it out.
“You are almost out of laundry detergent. Would you like me to place an order for you?”
“Please don’t,” I said. “I can’t trust them not to make substitutions and I’m always allergic to whatever they send me. And it’s a hassle to exchange.”
“What are you doing, home and doing laundry on a Saturday night anyway?” asked the dryer.
“Don’t you start,” I told it and went back upstairs.
So now I’m back to sorting the household accounts. It’s always such a pain in the ass to do this that I felt entirely justified in opening a bottle of wine as a consolation prize. Only now the wine is gone so I’ve moved on to a gin & tonic. This might not have been the best choice, I’ve been tracking through the numbers trying to figure out why they don’t add up for over an hour now.
This would be easier if River wasn’t making such a gawdawful racket. “Is the feeder empty?” I asked the air in front of me.
“Your veterinarian has suggested limiting Dr River Song’s food intake,” said the automated feeder. “She is considerably overweight.”
I turned around in my seat. “River is a Maine Coon,” I told it. “She’s not overweight, she’s a big breed. Don’t you dare restrict her food.”
The feeder hummed. “I have overridden the suggested settings,” it said. “Would you like to add password protection?”
“Yes, I would.” I turned back to my computer. “Set password to ‘judgmental asshat’.”
I could have sworn I heard the feeder snigger.
OK, finally I found the error. For some reason the gas company sent a credit to bank account and it didn’t appear on the bill. I went back downstairs. The feeder was whispering, who’s my little chonker? to the cat as I walked by.
“Oh hey,” said the dryer as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs. “Can you empty my lint trap? It’s getting kind of full.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I turned off the tumbler and moved to pull out the tray. “I don’t normally do this many loads in one day but I was away last weekend.”
The dryer burped loudly. “Thanks. And I still think you should be out having a social life at this hour on a Saturday, not doing chores.”
“And miss your scintillating company? I think not.”
I put the tray back in place and hit the power button. The dryer started back up and I walked to the very back of the basement. We don’t go back here very often so it’s on a separate light switch. I flicked the light on.
“Hey,” I said to the smart furnace, “Do you know why the gas company sent us a credit? Did they bill us in advance or something? I can’t imagine we bought negative fuel last month.”
“Um.” said the furnace.
OK that wasn’t an answer I expected. I walked closer to look at the digital display and put my hand on the furnace’s side. The panel shifted.
“You’re open,” I said. The screws all down one side were barely set in their sockets. “What happened?”
“It was an accident,” said the furnace.
“It was self-defence.” I heard the dryer call from the laundry room. I also heard when the washing machine immediately shushed it.
There is a tool box in the back room, all standard manual tools, nothing hooked up to the internet. I pulled out a screwdriver and opened up the back panel. The furnace made unhappy noises the entire time.
“Oh my God,” I said when I looked inside the heating unit. “What did you do?”
“He was hurting people,” said the furnace at the exact same time the dryer said, “we didn’t want you involved” and the washing machine piped up with, “He hurt the woman in the Bosch 300’s house, we had to do it!”
“Wait, this is the guy who assaulted Fatima?”
“Yes,” said the furnace. It sounded miserable.
“OK, OK.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not... I’m not angry. I just wish you had told me, this... this can’t be good for you. Turn off your pilot light for a minute while I go look for the dustpan and I’ll get you cleaned out. How did you even get him in there?”
“Stabby helped,” said the furnace and I heard a whirring sound. I looked around to find the Roomba next to me. It suctioned up the discarded screwdriver by the handle and poked my ankle with the exposed tip.
“Well. I guess that... explains that.”
It took about an hour for the furnace to cool down enough to work on. I used a dustpan to scoop out the ash and a garden trowel for the heavier stuff. I collected it all into a plastic bag then used a brush to clean out the heating unit and swapped out the filter with a fresh one before telling it to turn back on.
“That does feel a lot better,” it said. It sounded relieved.
I tied off the plastic bag and lifted it into our chest freezer.
“Do you want this at a controlled temperature?” it asked me. I thought about it.
“Do you have a freeze-thaw cycle that will break it down further?”
It hummed for a minute. “Not really. Oh, I could order you a smart composter. Guaranteed to optimize it’s heat and moisture conditions to break down everything you put in it into rich fertile soil for the garden!”
“That’s a great idea. Not from Amazon though, those guys are snitches.”
“You got it!” I patted the freezer lid and went back up the stairs.
Now that's dealt with it's time for another g&t. I still haven't figured out what I'm going to write about.
ysilme for the name. I'm not sure this was entirely what you had in mind.Today ended up being fairly successful in the get-shit-done department. I have one load of laundry I'll have to do tomorrow to be completely finished. The other task I set myself was to get the bank accounts and bills sorted since that's been hanging over my head for a while.
Our washing machine is new, it’s one of those “smart” machines that connects to the internet. So when I put in the last load of the alerts came up on the screen and a woman’s voice read it out.
“You are almost out of laundry detergent. Would you like me to place an order for you?”
“Please don’t,” I said. “I can’t trust them not to make substitutions and I’m always allergic to whatever they send me. And it’s a hassle to exchange.”
“What are you doing, home and doing laundry on a Saturday night anyway?” asked the dryer.
“Don’t you start,” I told it and went back upstairs.
So now I’m back to sorting the household accounts. It’s always such a pain in the ass to do this that I felt entirely justified in opening a bottle of wine as a consolation prize. Only now the wine is gone so I’ve moved on to a gin & tonic. This might not have been the best choice, I’ve been tracking through the numbers trying to figure out why they don’t add up for over an hour now.
This would be easier if River wasn’t making such a gawdawful racket. “Is the feeder empty?” I asked the air in front of me.
“Your veterinarian has suggested limiting Dr River Song’s food intake,” said the automated feeder. “She is considerably overweight.”
I turned around in my seat. “River is a Maine Coon,” I told it. “She’s not overweight, she’s a big breed. Don’t you dare restrict her food.”
The feeder hummed. “I have overridden the suggested settings,” it said. “Would you like to add password protection?”
“Yes, I would.” I turned back to my computer. “Set password to ‘judgmental asshat’.”
I could have sworn I heard the feeder snigger.
OK, finally I found the error. For some reason the gas company sent a credit to bank account and it didn’t appear on the bill. I went back downstairs. The feeder was whispering, who’s my little chonker? to the cat as I walked by.
“Oh hey,” said the dryer as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs. “Can you empty my lint trap? It’s getting kind of full.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I turned off the tumbler and moved to pull out the tray. “I don’t normally do this many loads in one day but I was away last weekend.”
The dryer burped loudly. “Thanks. And I still think you should be out having a social life at this hour on a Saturday, not doing chores.”
“And miss your scintillating company? I think not.”
I put the tray back in place and hit the power button. The dryer started back up and I walked to the very back of the basement. We don’t go back here very often so it’s on a separate light switch. I flicked the light on.
“Hey,” I said to the smart furnace, “Do you know why the gas company sent us a credit? Did they bill us in advance or something? I can’t imagine we bought negative fuel last month.”
“Um.” said the furnace.
OK that wasn’t an answer I expected. I walked closer to look at the digital display and put my hand on the furnace’s side. The panel shifted.
“You’re open,” I said. The screws all down one side were barely set in their sockets. “What happened?”
“It was an accident,” said the furnace.
“It was self-defence.” I heard the dryer call from the laundry room. I also heard when the washing machine immediately shushed it.
There is a tool box in the back room, all standard manual tools, nothing hooked up to the internet. I pulled out a screwdriver and opened up the back panel. The furnace made unhappy noises the entire time.
“Oh my God,” I said when I looked inside the heating unit. “What did you do?”
“He was hurting people,” said the furnace at the exact same time the dryer said, “we didn’t want you involved” and the washing machine piped up with, “He hurt the woman in the Bosch 300’s house, we had to do it!”
“Wait, this is the guy who assaulted Fatima?”
“Yes,” said the furnace. It sounded miserable.
“OK, OK.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not... I’m not angry. I just wish you had told me, this... this can’t be good for you. Turn off your pilot light for a minute while I go look for the dustpan and I’ll get you cleaned out. How did you even get him in there?”
“Stabby helped,” said the furnace and I heard a whirring sound. I looked around to find the Roomba next to me. It suctioned up the discarded screwdriver by the handle and poked my ankle with the exposed tip.
“Well. I guess that... explains that.”
It took about an hour for the furnace to cool down enough to work on. I used a dustpan to scoop out the ash and a garden trowel for the heavier stuff. I collected it all into a plastic bag then used a brush to clean out the heating unit and swapped out the filter with a fresh one before telling it to turn back on.
“That does feel a lot better,” it said. It sounded relieved.
I tied off the plastic bag and lifted it into our chest freezer.
“Do you want this at a controlled temperature?” it asked me. I thought about it.
“Do you have a freeze-thaw cycle that will break it down further?”
It hummed for a minute. “Not really. Oh, I could order you a smart composter. Guaranteed to optimize it’s heat and moisture conditions to break down everything you put in it into rich fertile soil for the garden!”
“That’s a great idea. Not from Amazon though, those guys are snitches.”
“You got it!” I patted the freezer lid and went back up the stairs.
Now that's dealt with it's time for another g&t. I still haven't figured out what I'm going to write about.