Long time readers know that I am a big fan of geothermal heat. It's cheap, efficient heat from the center of the Earth- bah ha ha ha ha! (I don't know what just happened...)
Anyway, we've already pretty much decided to get it. In fact, we've already got them drilling outside. I don't want to bore you with the details, but it has been so complicated. We ended up working with two different companies: one that drills wells, for the drilling, and one that does heating, for the inside of the house stuff. Oh, my. Anywho, after a month of us calling around and getting estimates and figuring things out, they're doing it. Now.
Tuesday: 6 AM, some dude with a fancy truck is putting out flags where power lines are underground and spraying and all sorts of stuff. I can't help wonder, why so early?
Wednesday: At a decent hour, the drillers come to drill. (I keep thinking of that crazy dumb movie with Bruce Willis and Ben the Afflicted, about the drillers who have to drill to the center of the comet. What the heck is that?) Yay! They come to drill, and drill all morning. Then, around nap time, as I am walking back from the Organic Machine House, one of the guys asks me if I have any more hose on hand because it's such a bitch to open one of those giant spools and things are NOT going well and... no, I don't have any more hose to lend. Sorry. A few minutes later, from way across the field, I hear the "F" word used in ways I have never dreamed possible. It is a verb. It is an adjective, it is a noun, it is a preposition... it's South Park out there. Apparently, they've hit ROCK!
Thursday: Drilling again, all morning. After nap time, Little Z and I wander down to the swing set (acquired via the yahoo group "freecycle"- highly recommended) and, on the way, one of the guys informs us, once again, that things are NOT GOING WELL! The drill (which is the size of a tractor) is STUCK! So, as Z and I pretend to be playing- but really we're just gawking- they hook up this giant truck- (think dump truck size truck-) to the giant drill, completely blocking the road, and they turn on the truck and they pull. And four of the trucks wheels go off the ground and the drill doesn't budge. And they do it again. And again. And again. And it comes out, finally, and the wheels go down one by one- it's sort of like how we got the mattress up the stairs-- with a lot of effort and very slow progress. Luckily, our road has very little traffic, and no one gets miffed by the road being blocked for fifteen minutes.
Friday: Oh, my.