I don't even need to define the title for you.

The other night something went wrong with the water heater, and my usual plumber was on his way out of town. We are still cut off from civilization, so I had to try to find an Estes Park plumber who would come down here. I found one who said he would, but have yet to hear back, so I hope he hasn't forgotten.

It's a bitter cold, windy day out there, so I've got a fire in the fire place, trying to keep the house warmed up.

Yesterday the highway department finally picked up my flood debris from the side of the road. They forgot, and I had to email them about it. The wind was blowing stuff off the pile back onto my property. Sunday I had to wrestle someone's queen size box spring into the back of my truck and haul it back to the pile on the highway.

Although there wasn't supposed to be household garbage in there, people had been dropping theirs off onto the pile. I found magazines addressed to someone who lives 6 miles away, up on Storm Mountain where they didn't even have any flooding. I told the highway people that as long as those folks driving by on their way to town see piles of trash to be picked up, they will be tempted to dispose of their garbage for free rather than taking it all the way to town and paying for it.



It filled 2 of these giant trucks, so imagine how many pickup loads we'd have to get it to the landfill, not to mention the cost, paying by the load.

While I watched the removal, I had a nice chat with the flagger woman. She said the highway contractor is very kind to people. They gave straps to the flaggers to keep their hard hats on when it's windy, and they sawed a souvenir slice out of a tree for one of the flood victims. The family planted that tree in the 1950s, and it survived the 1976 flood, but not this one.

This bear track was on the road this morning. It's not very large - you can see how it compares to my own footprint.