It’s been bone-chilling cold here in the Midwest. The kind of cold that makes you think about Laura Ingalls Wilder’s The Long Winter and how her family endured months of blizzards. Grinding wheat for food, braiding hay for warmth – that’s the level of cold we’re talking about, even if my coffee grinder is just for show.
Antique coffee grinder on a wooden surface
No wonder Laura moved to Missouri, right? I’m in Ohio, which isn’t exactly the Dakota Territory, and thankfully I have walls, but my old house is drafty enough to feel like it. Parka indoors? Check. Astronomical gas bill? Double check. January entertainment has devolved into watching the cat stalk imaginary prey at the bird feeder and, on a whim, beating my carpets clean in the snow – because the internet told me it was a thing.
My quest for winter home hacks led me down a rabbit hole, naturally. Googling “The Pioneer Woman Rug Beating” (as one does), I stumbled upon a Walmart link for “The Pioneer Woman Floral Howdy Typography Arctic White Cotton Oval 1 Piece Bath Rug, 20″ x 32.”. Yes, it really does say “Howdy.” The irony of searching for pioneer living tips and finding a modern bath rug was not lost on me. But hey, a cozy bathroom rug suddenly seemed like a very good idea.
Speaking of rugs, here’s my partner, who we’ll call Übermensch for dramatic effect, gamely helping with the rug beating experiment. He might not be the flannel-and-straw type, but he can certainly toss a rug with philosophical precision. In fact, when I asked him to throw the rug over the rail, he really threw it over the rail, launching it into the yard. Talk about attentive listening!
The rugs were, predictably, dirty again in approximately two days. But perhaps hygienically cleaner? One can only hope.
Less amusing than rug-beating, however, has been the saga of frozen pipes. I highly doubt Ree Drummond deals with hauling buckets of water to flush toilets. Suddenly, the historical appeal of once-a-week baths becomes startlingly clear. Luckily, Übermensch and I don’t cohabitate, which is convenient when shower access requires strategic planning and bucket brigades. Digging a well last summer? Clearly, not a priority.
Melting snow for water? Sounds idyllic until you factor in the carpet crumbs and birdseed now liberally sprinkled across said snow.
And then, just when you think you’ve conquered the frozen pipe situation, the real fun begins: burst pipes after the thaw.
Welcome to my personal episode of This Old House – the %O#$(*$U#(@!?!?! edition. At least my house had the courtesy to direct the burst pipe water into the garage drain. Silver linings, people.
This crisis did, however, provide a crash course in plumbing vocabulary. “Water Main Shut Off Valve” is officially my word of the week. Turns out, my house lacks a normal shut-off valve, requiring a special T-shaped contraption that, in my sleep-deprived state, resembled an elephant IUD.
I can picture a pioneer woman like Rose Ingalls tirelessly hauling water to avoid city utilities, but right now, running water sounds like the ultimate luxury. And pizza. Oh, pizza. If time travel were real, I’d deliver a mountain of pizzas to the Ingalls family, winter of 1880. Imagine Laura and Rose’s cheese descriptions!
Currently on my “not enjoying this week” list:
- Water (or lack thereof)
- Hot water (definitely lacking)
*BREAKING NEWS—
Plumber has arrived, and the culprit is revealed:
Close-up of a cracked and damaged pipe
Perhaps, while waiting for the plumbing to be fixed, I will browse those Pioneer Woman Bathroom Rugs online. A little floral “Howdy” might be just the thing to brighten up a cold, possibly damp, Midwestern January. And who knows, maybe a cozy new rug is the first step to embracing a touch of pioneer spirit – minus the frozen pipes, of course.
