In the evening, the weather people are warning of storms. The severe kind that do damage.
Ed and I are back at Menards, looking at windows, light fixtures and sinks. For the Writer’s Shed.
We have already checked out the Recycle (Habitat for Humanity) store, a lighting fixture store and really every other discount entity we could think of. We are back at Menards as Ed waffles between going for the appearance (casement windows) or cost (double hung). [I know cost will prevail, but I go along with this process because I think the “what if” path is one Ed likes to travel.]
And there, in the aisle of Menards, I pop the question.
Do you think I could have a sink?
It is nearly impossible to connect the Shed to the septic system and water pipe.
I know this to be true, but when I get swept away by emotion, reason fails me.
Still, maybe we could look at sinks. Maybe there could be a place where I could drain waste.
If you think the idea of draining a sink that has no water pipe leading in is strange, you must understand that we had already studied carefully such oddities as composting toilets (the video on this system was... compelling) and had looked at many on line presentations of incinerating toilets. We rejected them all – Ed by reason of cost, me by reason of grossness.
We look at sinks. I daydream of how wonderful it would be to rinse a cup right there in the Writer’s Shed.
I could run a hose to the Shed and you could rinse anything you like..
It’s not the same, I tell him.
We make no real progress today. And yet, we inch forward. We know what the stumbling blocks are. And we know they are surmountable. In the scheme of things.
Maybe I could keep a rain barrel at the side and hope for above average rainfall.
Late in the evening, as I watch reports of damaging storms in the area where we kayaked earlier in the week, Ed looks at sinks on Craig’s list. Take a look at this: fluted green clamshell. Slightly soiled.