It’s been bone-chilling cold here in the Midwest. The kind of cold that makes you think of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s The Long Winter, where survival meant grinding wheat for meager bread and burning hay for warmth. You know, real cold.
I even have a decorative coffee grinder, much like the Ingalls family might have used, a relic from an antique store. Thankfully, my needs are less dire, though my old Ohio house definitely has a Dakota Territory vibe in January. Drafty doesn’t even begin to cover it. Parka indoors? Check. Exorbitant gas bill? A resounding yes at $183.
My winter entertainment has devolved into watching the birds at the feeder—through frosted windows, naturally—and attempting to clean my carpets by beating them in the snow. Apparently, the internet recommends this.
Driven by a quest for domestic comfort in the face of sub-zero temperatures, I Googled “The Pioneer Woman Rug Beating.” This digital journey led me, perhaps unsurprisingly, to Walmart and a link for “The Pioneer Woman Floral Howdy Typography Arctic White Cotton Oval 1 Piece Bath Rug, 20″ x 32.”.
Yes, it proudly proclaims “Howdy.” It’s the kind of cheerful, down-home greeting you might expect from Ree Drummond herself, bringing a little bit of Oklahoma sunshine into my drafty Midwestern existence. I envisioned this Pioneer Woman rug adding a touch of warmth and personality to my otherwise utilitarian bathroom floor.
Here’s my own Marlboro Man, though decidedly more philosopher than cowboy, helping with the aforementioned rug beating. Let’s call him Übermensch. He’s less flannel-clad ranch hand and more Austrian intellectual, but equally helpful when it comes to domestic tasks, even if he’s unlikely to be craving Cowboy Brats or Cowboy Kraut anytime soon.
The amazing thing about Übermensch is his literal interpretation of instructions. When I asked him to throw the rug over the rail, he threw the rug over the rail – launching it with impressive force and accuracy into the yard. It was a display of listening skills I’d rarely encountered. Übermensch indeed.
Sadly, despite our rug-beating efforts, the rugs were dirty again within 48 hours. Perhaps the bacteria count is down, though? Small victories.
Less enjoyable than rug beating, however, has been the saga of frozen pipes. One imagines Ree Drummond, with her sprawling ranch and modern amenities, doesn’t frequently find herself hauling buckets of water to flush the toilet. The glamorous life of The Pioneer Woman likely doesn’t involve such basic plumbing woes.
The absence of running water provides a swift and stark understanding of why weekly bathing was once the norm. Luckily, Übermensch and I maintain separate residences, which is advantageous when shower access and bucket refills are required. Regrettably, digging a well last summer fell off the to-do list.
Yes, melting snow is an option, but the thought of snow already tainted with carpet crumbs and birdseed wasn’t particularly appealing.
And then, surpassing even frozen pipes in unpleasantness, are burst pipes – the joyous aftermath of thawing.
Welcome to my personal episode of This Old %O#$(*$U#(@!?!?! House. In fairness, the house did direct the escaping water towards the garage drain, which I suppose is a form of architectural courtesy.
This crisis did afford me the opportunity to feel remarkably self-sufficient as I marched to the hardware store for a “Water Main Shut Off Valve” (a new vocabulary addition). My antiquated plumbing system lacks a standard shut-off valve, necessitating the acquisition of a specialized T-shaped contraption resembling, in my plumber’s colorful description, “an elephant IUD.”
While I can picture a resourceful pioneer woman like Rose Ingalls tirelessly hauling water from the river to avoid city utility bills, I will wholeheartedly appreciate the simple luxury of running water when it returns. And perhaps invest in a few more Pioneer Woman rugs to soften the hard edges of winter. Maybe a [Pioneer Woman braided rug](URL if available) for the hallway next time?
In the meantime, I’m profoundly grateful for pizza. If time travel were possible, a stack of pizzas would be my gift to the Ingalls family, circa the brutal winter of 1880. Imagine Laura and Rose’s eloquent descriptions of melted cheese!
Things I’ve decidedly not been enjoying this week:
- Lack of Water
- Absence of Hot water
*BREAKING NEWS—
The plumber has arrived, and the culprit is revealed:
[
