Last night our old generator gave up the ghost. Two nights before, Pete, whose ears (of necessity) are attuned to the sound of sick and healthy engines, turned it on and yelled up to me that it was dying. I then paid his statement little mind, for it sounded just fine to me. Little did I know, but Pete was thinking ahead, and beginning to plan for the day in which it kicked the gas container.

Last night – same time, same setting, same people. Pete turned the generator on, and I began anticipating taking a shower. Earlier, I’d been pen cleaning, and the warm afternoon sun had baked the scum on my arms and face. Then I heard it – Big G as I call it – go thrrmp, thrump, thrummpa, thrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmp-p-p.

The big generator in the generator shed

I knew without Pete’s having to tell me that it was dead. When finally, he brought this to my attention, I thought, but did not say, that we could bury it next to Nimby. (She’s still in deep freeze – I’m still in denial about her death. I’m actually doing the cryronics thing – I’m going to have her revived when they come up with a cure for chicken pneumonia. Then I’ll introduce her to Walt Disney, who is doing the same thing.

It was late, and I was tired and engrossed in Joe McGuinness’s book The Rogue, Searching for the real Sarah Palin. So I compartmentalized, figuring that this was an issue that we could deal with during breakfast. However, Pete, who is better than me at practical prioritization, continued to think hard about our generator options.

This morning, and only this morning, I began thinking about the implications of being without a generator. We used the Big G to pump water. Fortunately, we just began giving the horses water from the tank that’s located next to the shelter, saving us considerable time and effort.

No generator means no water on hand to drink, bathe, or wash dishes with. This is not good. In fact, it’s very bad.

We’re now considering our options, one of which is to temporarily haul water from other sources. I’m okay with this, because I can deal with most anything when the weather’s good. And indeed, spring has sprung.

Another option is to get the old generator repaired.

Another option is to get a new generator, and well pump that runs on 120v power.

If we haul water for a bit, we can put the new pump in when the ground thaws – that is if it thaws out at all.

The above is the second hand version of something that ought not be, but is enshrouded in extraneous detail.

It could be worse. I could be living with a REAL nerd. Pete says he has a student who’s put together a website on the subject of generators. Makes me antsy to think about having to read it. I would immediately think, I have better things to do . . . .

As Pete put the Millennium Gold buckets in Sputnik (our old pickup truck) I realized just how lucky I am to live with a fellow who is primarily left brained. If say, I lived with another right brained person, we’d be melting snow in pots and drinking the dregs. And I’d be cursing my mate out because the water would be scummy.

Right now my thoughts are revolving around Signy. There has been little change. She’s become food aggressive, and yesterday kicked the shit out of Siggi. (I had not, as I should have, put the food in piles.) I felt bad – after all, this was her trail buddy. Interestingly enough, moments later, they were eating together. Siggi I realized, does not carry grudges.

This morning I took the goats and Signy and Tinni for our morning amble. I call it this because it’s now become a run. We all went around the loop with great abandon, at a very good clip.

The weather’s now quite good – it’s getting near impossible to get work done.

Next: 133. 4/20/12: Tuning in to a Universal Language