Dave and I have agreed that we are probably in one of the last generations, we humans having evolved ourselves right out of a job, and we’re not sure that’s such a bad thing, although we’re sorry for the frogs. We seem likely to soon be gone with both a bang and a whimper, and good riddance. On the other hand, as Dave points out, our generation is in the privileged position of being able to enjoy all of our self-destructive toys on our way out.
He’s not ostentatious about it. His car is what he describes as “suede-top” ’93 Thunderbird, resolutely parked where it can rust in peace, while he walks all over town; fourteen miles to buy a pencil is nothing to him. The walking habit began when he quit smoking. He left a single pack on the microwave and walked away from it until it felt safe to turn around, at which point he might be twelve miles away. His embrace of modern technology is minimal and his needs and wants modest. No, what he really enjoys doing, as our planet bakes and gags and prepares to grease our exit, is to stand in front of an open refrigerator door, after first turning on all the lights in the house. He stands, he basks, he looks around, and he drums incessantly on the open door, the habit of percussion having long since replaced the tobacco. He will stand there until he finds the pepperoncinis or finishes the drum solo to “Sing, Sing, Sing,” whichever takes longest. To add to his pleasure, we have two refrigerators. And to further add to his pleasure, this routine drives me batcrap crazy. If I seem to be engrossed in something and paying insufficient attention to him, he will drum his way into the kitchen, snap on the overhead lights, open the big fridge, leave it open and go to the small fridge and open that, drum for a while, fan himself with the door, then leave the room and flick lights on all the way up to the second floor, where he hopes to locate the mustard in the underwear drawer. (Sadly, as time goes on, this has become increasingly likely.)
I resolve not to give him the reward of jumping up and screaming, but in a minute, after having visualized a herd of salmon leaping out of the refrigerators and flopping on the floor, X’s over their eyes, he gets his reward. The energy waste is a small price to have to pay, unless you’re a salmon, for that giddy feeling he gets when I go batcrap crazy.
We run hydropower here in NW Oregon, and there’s always been plenty of it. Dave’s habits have been ingrained since childhood, when there were just as many dams and far fewer people. I open the fridge door long enough to slip a credit card through, if you’re fast. I have tripped over furniture because of my disinclination to turn on lights. But I have my own appetites. I have discovered that I can solve any problem I might be having with my writing while I’m in the shower. This is so reliable that I routinely look over a piece I’m working on before stepping in the shower. The longer the shower is, and the hotter it is, the better. If I look pruney to you, assume I’ve had a major literary breakthrough.
But the whole problem of our wastefulness has now been solved, because we just had photovoltaic solar panels installed on our roof. And do you know what this means? No, it doesn’t mean we are off the grid; we’re only expected to recoup 17% of our current (ha!) usage. No, it doesn’t mean our hot water is free; our electricity goes back to the power company. Here’s what it means:
We’re cool. We’re immensely cool. We are way cooler than you, probably. We’ve been way cooler than you since we got the little “Solar City Home” sign poked into our front yard, and now that we have actual panels hooked up on our roof, our coolness is off the charts. We wouldn’t have them if you, the taxpayers, weren’t giving us a lot of money back–thank you, taxpayers, who are less cool than we–but we have them, and our smugness knows no bounds.
The crew that installed them showed up in matching green shirts and crotch-defining safety harnesses, and I started feeling warmer right away. The panels aren’t very noticeable except from up the street, so we’ve left the “Solar City Home” sign up, at least for a while. Oooh! You have solar panels! Do you love them? Oh, those? Yes, we’re very pleased. Here is a beatific smile for you, and thank you, little people. We are very, very cool.
We should have no trouble jacking up our electrical usage to make up for the 17%. Dave has moved his chair in front of the open fridge door. And I’m working on a novel. I plan to drain the reservoir.
Don't worry about the water. Every molecule of water that ever was on this Earth is still here. If more of it gets run over a Murr, I say, all to the better for Murr-dispersal.
Oh I totally agree. Not about the coolness but about our last gasp. I think humans will be the least successful in terms of longevity of mother earth's experiments.
Now if I had solar panels (can't, too many trees in the yard shading the house from our brutal summers), Then I wouldbe cool. For you Portlanders, in the land of the ever-lasting hippie, it takes much more.
You're way ahead of the curve as far as I'm concerned. We leave in a meadow, so we burn our trash and heat with wood. But we are rather bad otherwise with electricity use. I try to remember my shopping bags. I forget sometimes. But I rather think you might be right, that our time as the head honchos on this planet is numbered.
Unmitigated me is an enabler! Who knew? I approve of your Murr-centric position on water use.
Only four hours away…and we can't get anyone to install solar here. Sometimes it's hard to believe that the economy is really failing when I'm willing to pay a boatload of money to go solar but the installer says he won't drive here from his offices 1/2 hour away. Of course, he went under about a month later, so maybe I'm glad he didn't do it!
Still, the incentives were right and I wanted to be cool, too!
Congrats on the solar! Give us a report on the descent of power use! Solar was in my plan, too, but a smallish tree in the south yard turned out to be a pesty Norway maple, which even now is threatening giantism. I compensated with new windows, loads of insulation, a new tubular skylight, and next month's installation of a little gas stove for the turtles' room that will allow me to turn the house thermostat down, even as it keeps them warmer without their supplemental electric heater. I still hope for a city-solar company coalition–this neighborhood would never do it–to encourage me to add some panels elsewhere on the roof. Some say do it ASAP to get going on the savings and before your roof ages; I'm tempted by better and cheaper–maybe–later. We'll see.
Water, water, everywhere (in the sky and in the hair), but–sigh–all that extra water returns either to salt water (from the yard) or (from the house) to the water treatment plant. I've worked in the latter, and, boy-oh-boy does it take a lot of power and utility bill dollars to clean it up again.
Methinks I recognize that frog. And Kelly would recognize me in Dave's kitchen behaviour.
I'm getting some mileage out of that one frog. And great: y'all can come visit and we'll pull out a chair to put in front of the fridge. One for you and one for Dave.
Enjoy the limelight of your Solar panels while you can, it's just water over the dam. This from the "Oregonian":
Customers of Pacific Power will see their electric rates spike 14.5 percent in January. The increase comes in a one-two punch: an 8.4 percent general rate increase state utility regulators approved Friday, and a 6.1 percent increase for increased power costs they are expected to approve Dec. 28. Both take effect Jan. 1.
Meanwhile, customers of the state's largest electric utility, Portland General Electric Co., will see a lesser, but still significant, rate increase of about 3.9 percent. A few mandatory cost adjustments in the works will bump that overall increase to 4.2 percent, effective Jan. 1.
Robert, that means it will take less time to recoup my costs. Signed, Pollyanna.
Glad you have made the change. Love the humour in this post.
My mom had a chip installed in the fridge door handle: when the door was opened for more than 2 seconds, her voice went off, "Don't stand with the fridge door open".
I feel cool just writing on the page of someone so cool, even if you/we are terminally cool. If you get a windmill, I may expire from coolness!
They won't allow us to have solar panels where we live, which is not cool. But we're actually cool anyway: in our bathroom, there's a ten-inch glass vase with a six-inch diameter in the window and the water in it is frozen solid. The rest of the house is just a few degrees warmer. You can't get much cooler than that.
Love the guys in Green….now they are cool!! or is that HOT?? I didn't realize you had enough sunshine in the NW to warrent solor panels 🙂 Love your blog, I think the long showers are worth the water usage.
PS: I'm a former Seattleite that now lives in the SW, the Sunshine Belt 🙂 with no solar panels.
Love your writing style and the fact that you always make me laugh out loud. And those harnesses … Did you (we) have to pay extra for those? They may add a whole new dimension to the the concept of Global Warming.
I hate you and your almost useless but completely smug solar panels because I don't have any of my own. I hate having to keep up with the Brewsters. I hate it that we have to buy stuff to help us use less.
But I love frogs. I used to see them all the time when I was growing up instead of out. But I've only seen one outside of a zoo in the last 20 years. That was in my front yard about a year and a half ago, after a thunderous hail storm that dumped about an inch of stones on our front yard. It hopped up out of a mound of freshly disturbed earth the next day, making me wonder if there aren't frogs lying dormant underground, waiting for the day when the people are all gone and the earth heals itself.
P.S. — The things that help writers write are interesting. Hot showers, in your case. Reggae music and chocolate in mine.
I'm totally bowing to your coolness. And the fact that you brainstorm your writing in a hot shower. I, in fact, brainstorm mine while sitting on the porcelain throne. So we are nearly in narrative sync by virtue of geography. I admit, I can probably stay on the pot as long as you can stay in the shower. Then again, it all depends on how "green" your water system isn't. Cuz actually, I can flush all day long.
Fragrant Liar and I have a lot of thinking to do. The rest of you will have to go outside.
MikeWJ, there ARE frogs lying dormant underground. Yours, however, came out of the sky.
I always say I'm happy to have been born when I was, lived when I did (or do as last time I checked I was still alive) and with any luck I'll get off the planet before the whole thing goes to shit. I've also been known to say that God should have quit on Friday while he was ahead.
As a taxpayer, I'm happy to have contributed to your use of solar. It beats the hell out of paying for two wars.
Happy New Year, my too-cool friend.
I'm totally bowing to your coolness. And the fact that you brainstorm your writing in a hot shower. I, in fact, brainstorm mine while sitting on the porcelain throne. So we are nearly in narrative sync by virtue of geography. I admit, I can probably stay on the pot as long as you can stay in the shower. Then again, it all depends on how "green" your water system isn't. Cuz actually, I can flush all day long.
Love the guys in Green….now they are cool!! or is that HOT?? I didn't realize you had enough sunshine in the NW to warrent solor panels 🙂 Love your blog, I think the long showers are worth the water usage.
PS: I'm a former Seattleite that now lives in the SW, the Sunshine Belt 🙂 with no solar panels.