I forgot to note that printing out the manuscripts was somewhat interesting. I needed a total of three copies and you’d think that would be easy–make one copy and then take it to Kinkos and make two more–but it wasn’t quite so straightforward.
I was snowing here. I’m not equipped for carrying 15 pounds of manuscripts in the snow–yes, I’m a West Coast Wimp. But before I could even contemplate the hike to the PO, I had to produce and box the mss. I have a printer, paper, boxes, lables… everything I need. Except the extra electricity.
See, living on a boat has a few drawbacks and one of them is the limited electrical budget. Unlike a house, our boat has a 20-amp electrical service. That’s about one circuit for most homes. When I need to run the printer or the microwave, I have to turn off the heater. No problem most of the time, but this particular November has been the wettest on record for Seattle and this week was unusually cold with daytime temps near or below freezing. On all of the days I needed to print out. So I needed to turn the heater off.
For an hour.
In the 28-degree cold.
Yup. I baked pies and let the waste heat from the oven keep the boat tolerable while I printed out the manuscripts. I printed out all three, since that was faster and warmer (and didn’t require me to carry a pile of papers 6 blocks in the snow and sleet) than printing one, togging up, walking to Kinkos to copy it, then trudging back home to box them up, and then back out to ship them. Instead I printed all three copies at home (what a great little printer I have!) and boxed them up while marion berry and pumpkin pies warmed and perfumed my home.
Pretty nifty, really. Except that I’m trying to lose a little of this sitting-on-my-ass-all-day weight I’ve gained while doing this job and those pies are calling out to me “Kaaaaaaaaat, eat us! Eat us NOW! With ice cream!” (I’m saved from ice cream by the fact that our freezer is the size of a VW glove compartment and no ice cream containers will fit in it.)
Evil pies. If I’m the size of a Buick by Christmas you know who to blame: Marie Callendar and Mrs. Smith.