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Excuses, Excuses
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We woke up to no water. Frozen pipes. It's been nearly three weeks since the thermometer's been above freezing, and then it was for about two hours late one afternoon.

I had to wedge myself into the crawlspace under the house. At least the temperature was up to 12 degrees outside. Practically a heat wave, even if the water in the pipes didn't think so. The crawlspace is about one cinderblock high. Most places you can't roll over without catching your shoulder. I did my limbo routine, pushed myself under with my feet, tried to keep my nose safely beneath pipes and wires and insulation.

It's impossible not to inhale the fine grained dust.. I first encountered that sort of gray powder as a child, under my grandparents' long porch. Moon dust. I imagined I was exploring a lunar cavern.. This morning the dust was no so enchanting. It stuck in the back of my throat and concealed stones that dug into my back. At least the hand-sized spiders which populate the place would be incapacitaed by the cold, I figured. Not that I'd care to have a frozen spider drop out of the insulation onto my face either.

A few minutes directing the heat gun down into the rocky maw where the pipe emerges from the well and I could hear the rattle of ice breaking and water starting to flow. Somewhere above me the pump started to chug.

A couple days ago we'd answered a few copy reader's questions concerning the newest book and made a few corrections to the map that goes in the front. We are really and truly and undeniably done. Period. So of course the pipes would freeze.

Any excuse to to put off getting started on the next book.

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