Frozen water in the heat

I am at the Mothhouse again! That means another slice of life, and especially of cold.  Amazingly, we have had a week of just below freezing point temperature. That feels like coming from the freezer to the fridge. Or in other words, like Norwegian spring.  But it was not to last: Last night it fell to -15 C again. (That’s 5 Fahrenheit, for those whose temperature measurement is not in any way connected to the freezing and boiling of water.)  It is already milder again though, and the meteorologists predict that it will actually rain tomorrow.  I believe that when I see it, honestly.  But perhaps that would thaw out the water pipes?

Yes, they have managed to freeze again. When I came here today and opened the main water intake, only the kitchen and the WC had water. The shower and the bathroom faucet each has neither hot nor cold water.  I suppose I actually really should have kept it running, as insane as that sounds to a modern human.  I mean, hello, even in Norway I believe water costs money.  Hot water certainly costs money, and even the hot water pipes seem to have frozen when not in use.  People, it is ordinary room temperature both in the washroom and bathroom.  You could sit there and read a book in your ordinary indoors clothes.  Despite this, the water has frozen after 1 night of deep freeze.  Seriously, I can only conjecture that the pipes have never been insulated, just buried in the ground, and whoever lived here before just let the water run whenever the temperature looked to dip beyond zero.

I grew up in a house that was over 100 years old even then, 50 years ago.  There was no need to do crazy things there to keep the water from freezing, even though it was colder in the washroom there than here.  Someone here has done something stupid, and I seem slated to pay for it.  But as long as the pipes don’t actually break, I’ll just go ahead.  I called my friend with the big car and asked if he could help me move this weekend.

The road is still not plowed.  There has been snow and wind in the meantime, so the narrow track I had made through the snow with the spade was mostly lost.  Near the house it was at least visible.  So I have started on it again, but I can’t see myself clearing a road big enough for a large car to get to the house.  I will probably have to buy a snowblower.  Argh. This is not going to contribute lifetime happiness points, I fear.  The whole idea about hiring someone with a snowplow is that they actually use it to keep the road open.  Unfortunately, they cannot even know where the road was, given that it is now just a sea of white snow, so I can see why they would hesitate.  It is normal to mark roads with small bamboo staves before the first snowfall, but nobody lived here back then so it never happened.  I can only hope that if I manage to recover the road, I can mark it from now on.  But if I invest in a snowblower, do I actually want to pay someone to (perhaps) plow it too?

Farm living is not quite the paradise city people may believe.  Of course, if it were a real farm I’d use the tractor.  But it is just a farmhouse by the river, surrounded by pretty farmland that is not mine.  So no tractor. I love tractors, but I think I shall limit myself to a snowblower for now!

Unless the good Lord actually sends some mild weather after all.  But that might be a bit much to hope for, after the world leaders took responsibility for the climate at the Copenhagen summit.  And I don’t see any of them sending any mild winds anytime soon, literally or otherwise.

Anyway, don’t get me wrong:  I love this house, even if it is old and ugly and not practical.  It feels very homey. And I don’t feel like a guest here.  There is no one else in the house and it is not full of other people’s stuff.  So I really want to move in here this coming weekend. But I really want to be able to shower again before summer, too…