I have a plumber downstairs making interesting sounds. He's replacing the water supply valves under the kitchen sink, which were badly corroded by the nasty hard water here, to the point the guys installing the dishwasher weren't sure they could turn the valves enough to make the connection. In fact, most of the repairs needed today are caused by the extreme amount of lime in the water. It makes me wonder what it's doing to me on the inside. I don't really have a place to install a water softener here, but I wonder if the regular houses have them. That's something to look into.
After this repair, I'm down to minor things, though when I opened the blinds yesterday I found that I may need to replace a window because the seal in the double-paned windows seems to have broken, with condensation between the panes. Then I'll get the fun of seeing if I can get approved for a mortgage. Apparently that can be interesting/difficult for self-employed people. I'm hoping that the fact that I've already had a mortgage for the whole time I've been self-employed, will likely be sticking with the same company, and that company has been sending me letters suggesting I refinance with them will count for something. This would just be more or less refinancing while switching houses.
So, I've made it through the first week of my Twitter experiment. Results are very mixed as to whether there really is any bump from activity. I have all of 45 followers. I also seem to have a raging case of Twitter shyness, where I feel like something of a fangirl stalker if I follow people, and I feel like I'm trying to piggyback on their fame or ride their coattails if I do something like reply to them or retweet them. I know, I know, that's how this works. Being reserved doesn't get you anywhere in social media. The wacky thing is, some of these people I've actually met. I've been on convention panels with them. But I'm holding back, like I don't want to be the obnoxious "hey, remember me" person.
I probably need to make better use of hashtags for visibility that isn't capitalizing on other people's fame.
Or I could just hide out and actually write instead of stressing too much over all this stuff.
It sounds like there's some kind of cutting torch action going on downstairs. Must resist the urge to investigate. I wouldn't want to startle him while he has his head under the sink.