The Heat Goes On ... and On

I know this view seems awfully familiar by now, but look!  The loft windows are open! It looks alive, doesn't it? Three of the four loft windows do open, and were manufactured as casement windows.  A certain amount of discussion, with the proprietor of the building surplus business where Kyle and I purchased them, gave us the information that the casement windows were constructed exactly as awning windows are, so we would not need to worry about drain holes being oriented wrongly if we turned these casement windows on their sides.  There would be a slight possibility that props would be needed to securely hold the windows open, but the price was right, and at this point props seem unnecessary.  The windows not only let a cross breeze move through the upper space in the house, but may be left open a couple of inches in a rain shower without letting any moisture in.

Here is a shot of the view out the doorway at the new location.  Lush and shady throughout the day on this starboard side of the house. Although even in the shade, the ambient air temperature has been such that I have begun joking that I am coming over here, to my sweat lodge, to purify my soul.  Ah, Kentucky.

I turned my head up and to my left and got this shot of some of the loft floor boards placed temporarily. The entry doorway is at the lower right of picture.

Inside the studio was my painting station for this inexpensive, uninsulated, interior hollow-core door.  A temporary door is needed until the restoration of the original front door of Machamux is complete.  I figured painting it with a good three coats of exterior latex semi-gloss enamel would allow it to hold up for a while.  And perhaps I will manage to paint it with flowers in a Norwegian folk painting style called rosemaling and provide a bit of entertainment for my friends near Lee, MA.  It does look an awful lot like a blank, gessoed canvas....

Voila!  I just knew there would be a use for these plastic step-aerobic platforms (a thrift store find)!!  They make the perfect temporary steps for the moment, are light, stable, and can be left out in the weather.  It was rather a clamber to get in the door before I brought them over.

Again inside the studio, I have set up a staining station for the cedar siding boards.  The saga of the siding has resolved into a permanent rustic look; I won't really be able to paint this little house white after some years and turn it into a New England colonial.  For that I would have needed to purchase (far more pricey) shorter lengths of clear, smooth, cedar "clapboards," a term I have been erroneously using interchangeably with cedar siding.  Which just shows my New England provincialism and unawareness of any difference between the two. So a decision has been made for me. No wonder I felt like no one here in the mid-west really knew what I was talking about.

An electrician friend, and former instructor for the women's home repair class program I coordinated years ago, has consented to digress somewhat from her usual huge new-construction power plant electrical work and crawl around the nook (singular) and cranny (ditto) in my tiny house pulling wires of much smaller caliber than she usually wrestles with; some may even be 12V.  It was her (P's) idea that I spend some time sitting in the house and tacking up little drawings of outlets, switches and fixtures, based on  my projected usage.  This was pretty fun -- much easier to do than the actual installation of same.  We both felt that now is the time to think in terms of providing as many options as possible, and even a bit of overkill, because getting the wiring behind the walls at this stage will greatly lessen the hassle of someday hard-wiring the house.  We have planned for two 120V circuits, assuming I will someday have an AC unit, and a fridge, and microwave -- possibly even a coffeemaker.
 

P also wanted to know the amperage of various appliances I own now, to help with a ballpark estimate of what power need I may be looking at ultimately. After several futile minutes trying to get my face between my refrigerator and AC unit in my apartment, and my (older) eyes far enough away to read the fine print, I got the brilliant idea of taking a digital photo of each label, my camera being significantly smaller and more maneuverable than my head ... Aha!

The non-digital microwave I own now was a gift from a dear friend on the eve of his moving to England. Yes, it is old, but it works fine, and even better there are NO annoying blinking LED lights/clocks to reset or cacophony of insistent beeps ordering me around my own kitchen.  No, there is a dial which is set like an old-fashioned kitchen timer, and a mere ding when time is up. Lovely.  But P seems fairly definite on this microwave oven not being up to snuff for my tiny house ... sigh.  Walking backward into the future again, I guess.