It was hot and super humid in the Keweenaw yesterday. I did chores late hoping things would cool down. I had just finished my outside chores by LED flashlight and sat down for a moment before starting my before bed chores in the cabin. It was 11 pm. All the Garden Shed windows were open and all the windows on the main level of the cabin were open. There was no breeze to speak of. Then I heard what I thought was either rain coming or the wind in the trees, however, something was different. At 11 pm, I'm slower than usual. Hmmm? What is that? Something feels weird. That's kind of loud for rain. Is it getting louder? Then it was eerily still and quiet. Then for just a moment, I felt something. I don't know what it was. It wasn't really air. The Secret Cabin kind of exhaled. I know that sounds super wack-o but there's a lot of wood in the cabin and it contracts and expands with the temperature and humidity. But never like this. That wasn't it. It was like the roof was being pressed down. Then, all of a sudden, the wind came from out of no where and ROARED and whipped around the cabin. The windows slammed shut and blew back open repeatedly as a herd of spooked felis catus stampeded from the front porch in all directions. By the time I hurdled the cats in my oncoming traffic, the wind was blowing rain through windows hanging half-ripped away from their frames. Shit. I quick-looked the porch and confirmed no cats on the porch and shut the door going from the porch to the kitchen. I ran around the rest of the cabin and got the windows shut and locked while mentally noting all cats present and accounted for. I went back out to the front porch. I was able to get some of the windows pulled in but not enough to latch them. One of the windows was sticking out more than the others and I felt my old cowgirl injuries flame up as I tried to lift the triple pane window into the frame enough to prevent further damage. Now, it was cold. I called The Husband to tell him what happened. He's used to me saying weird things so that didn't concern him as much as if the Garden Shed and Barn were okay. So, out into the down pour. The Garden Shed was fine. No broken, cheap Pella windows. The temperature had dropped ten degrees since I was last out there about 20 minutes previously. Next, the Barn. By the time I got to the Barn, my shirt and shorts were completely soaked down to my skin and I couldn't see through my lenses. Diesel was pretty concerned, doing the horse talk whinny-knicker thing, but everything was fine. The chickens and ducks always sound like what I imagine our US Congress sounds like in session. I went back into the cabin and called The Husband to let him know that yes, the Barn was still standing (for now); no, no damage to the Garden Shed; yes, everyone is okay; yes, solar panels still where we last left them but I couldn't get the windows lifted back into their frames. When I went upstairs to the loft to finally turn in after my exciting evening, I discovered the knee wall storage doors had blown open. Quick check for feLIONs, closed the doors and put the items we had stacked in front of them to keep the doors from blowing open back in front of said doors. Sigh. Now, for the day after.
|Plant blown off front porch. It took me a while but I did find the planter it was in.|
|Stupid, over priced Loewen window trying to leave the building. Good riddance, piece of crap.|
|This screen frame cracked when it blew open. Now it won't close.|
|Tsk, Oh. Darn, my wind chime got broken. It was hanging on the above screen.|
In conclusion, if we were made of money, I'd yank these lame ass windows and doors, load them up in a garbage truck, and ship them back to Loewen Corporate where you cannot reach anyone by phone. They might take some interest if there was a bunch of their windows dumped in one of the executive's parking spot. With the performance of these windows and doors thus far, we do not expect that we will even get ten years out of them. Of course, I don't know how long the poor Secret Cabin is going to be able to keep it together. We've still got leaks we're looking for. I'm concerned about rotting and mold. Then there's the drafts. It's a darn good thing we paid for permits so the Building Inspector was out here and kept the contractors honest, eh? I so badly want to move forward, heal, and get on with my life but I keep getting yanked back down in the mire of construction past. It's hard to move forward when you're still dealing with it all. Shaking head. I just don't know what to do about this mess.