Heilung: "Occasionally Angry Folk Music... With Antlers"

There's plenty of radio-friendly music I do enjoy, which I am sure some people will find surprising. But the stuff I enjoy the most seems to lie on the outskirts, the fringes - juxtapositions of styles and other musical "edge cases," as it were. One great example is the combination of American blues and Tuvan throat singing demonstrated by Paul Peña in the amazing documentary Genghis Blues, but there are others.

A lot of the power metal I often listen to comes from Finland and other locales of northern Europe. Much of it has a significant amount of thematic overlap with Viking history or Norse mythology, whether directly like Tyr or Turisas incidentally like Stratovarius or Nightwish. I probably shouldn't have been surprised to see a concert video by an experimental folk band popping up on autoplay one day, but I kind of was.

You hear birdsong playing on a foggy stage, as a man adorned in furs comes and blows a deep, sustained note on what appears to be a massive ox horn. As various percussion instruments join in, you can see that many of the mic stands, and many of the performers, are decorated with antlers, bones, skulls or horns of some fashion. A round shield of the Norse style rests on one of the monitor speakers on stage.

The musicians thump on hide drums with strikers made from antler, and a keyboard can be glimpsed amongst all the stage dressing. Periodically you can hear what sounds like a hammer striking an anvil while the female vocalist is striking what appears to be two slender bones together in time to the asynchronous yet compelling rhythm. She begins to sing words in another language, in a high, clear and haunting tone.

And despite the fact that the preceding two paragraphs sound like colour text from a D&D module, I was hooked.

Seriously, look at that concert - when I was a kid all the parents were afraid of cults, recruiting kids at hostels, at drop-in centers, and of course, at concerts.

Dad, to Mom: Fine, Doris, fine, if you want me to embarrass the boy, I will go to that concert, and I will check it out with my own two eyes, but I am telling you that band is not a front for a cult!

 

CUT TO: Dad standing, slack jawed, watching a bunch of foreign nationals wearing and making music with various dead things while chanting and throat singing.)

 

Dad, to Son: C'mon son, I gotta get you outta here - these people are cultists...

(What is it about German artists recognizing the visceral thrill of stark terror when it is skillfully applied to stagecraft? Rammstein, what hast thou done?)

Heilung (whose name is German for "healing") does not refer to their music as experimental folk, but rather as "amplified history from early medieval northern Europe." It's fascinating stuff, and both Fenya and I have fallen for the band in a big way. They are musically alluring and their presentation is beyond intriguing. 

We recently discovered Heilung had released a new video in April called Norupo; this one features the three principals from the band within a circle of standing stones. That's it - there is no story, no plot per se, and no drama to speak of, but it is still intriguing enough o watch, and beautifully shot. Despite the lack of tension, the video still manages to feel dangerous or elicit, like you have stumbled across these individuals in a forest someplace and are torn between wondering what they are up and feeling like an intruder yourself.

Norupo takes its name from the Norse Rune Poem, the source of the runic alphabet we now know as the Elder Futhark. Heilung uses these runes for the credits in their video, which is both fun and highly stylistic, as well as highly reminiscent of the appendices to The Lord of the Rings.

Most surprisingly, I was able to make out most of the first line without needing to use a key or decoder ring - you can see "Heilung," followed by the three primary members of the band: Christopher Juul, Kai Uwe Faust and Maria Franz. I can also make out the word "media" on the next line there, but stopped because my children found my runic knowledge a bit offputting.

Some of the comments under the new video underscore a lot of what I find both fascinating and challenging about the band.

this band is so metal they don't even need electric instruments!

Everyone: what sort of music do you like?

Me: uhhhh ...

Me: "hmmmmmm, what's this glorious sound?"

3 minutes into song: "We will carry the ships over the mountain, dump them into the river, and that is how we will raid Paris.

 

Some of Heilung's music is less folksy and more chant-y, more... atavistic, maybe. No, not maybe - definitely; the track Hakkerskaldyr sounds similar to the Maori Hakka. There is a fan-made lyric video, and you don't need to speak old Norse to know from listening to this that someone's a-gonna get hurt real bad:

Being able to stream full albums of stuff like this through Google music is really liberating. I'm not sure if I need any Heilung CDs in the collection yet, but the band was definitely a part of my inspiration for backing a recent Kickstarter. It's for a co-op narrative Viking survival horror game called Hel: The Last Saga. The imagery is astonishingly close without one being derivative of the other.

Ancient, mysterious, compelling, and otherworldly, in some ways Heilung reminds me of Lisa Gerrard's former group, Dead Can Dance. Their music scratches a lot of the same yearnings and itches, and there is really not a whole lot out there that is like it.

My intrigue for Heilung is far enough along at this point that I would definitely go to see them in concert if the opportunity presented itself. I've already told Fenya though, the second someone brings any livestock up onto stage, we are out of there.

Building Worlds for Fun and Profit

Worldbuilding has been on my mind a lot as of late, this notion within entertainment of a fictional setting, distinct in some way from our own present-day world, but with enough details and internal consistency to ease the suspension of disbelief.

This month I managed to re-watch much of the Lord of the Rings film trilogy with Fenya (and her boyfriend, joining remotely) and had some great discussions with the two of them about the mad genius that was Tolkien. I mean, have nothing but respect for the professor, but creating a fictional alphabet as a young man, then languages to go with the alphabet, then a mythology for the language to depict, and then a world for he mythology to be a part of, all before getting to that opening line of "In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit"? These are not the acts of a rational or well-ordered mind (thank goodness).

There have been other fictional settings for certain, but I fell confident that Tolkien was the first to have taken it to the degree that he did, which gave him the ability to populate his fictions with so many details about history, flora, fauna, cartography, poetry and recipes that it felt real, like a place you could visit. Certainly the appendices to The Lord of the Rings with their family trees, runic alphabets and other details were enough for 13-year-old me two wonder why I had never heard of Middle Earth in school before the point.

Star Trek and Harry Potter have carried on this tradition through tales with a page count exceeding The Lord of the Rings, with fandoms just as encompassing, if not more so. Even though they are adapting a larger volume of source material than even Tolkien, I credit the Marvel Cinematic Universe with creating what is probably the largest cinematic universe, with over 20 entries and no end in sight.

In more recent years, two movies have stood out due to their worldbuilding right out of the gate.

The first is Mad Max: Fury Road (2015). I was not particularly excited to see this movie when it came out in 2015, but it has subsequently become my favourite action movie fo the 21st century, and there is no reason to believe it won't end up being my all-time favourite within the genre.

It didn't accomplish this through its amazing action sequences, reliance on practical effects or unequalled stuntwork. Its appeal is derived from dropping the viewer into an unfamiliar world, a post-apocalyptic pastiche that we believed we had seen before, but is instead new and baffling. 

Within minutes of entry we are introduced to a wholly new culture, with its own language, dress and religion. We start out reeling, baffled, but slowly gain understanding, and finally, insight. The motivations of secondary and even tertiary characters begin to make sense, and sacrifices and redemptions feel even more earned. In the end, you not only feel like you have witnessed a spectacle, not just developed an emotional connection, you feel as if you have briefly been somewhere else. And, if you are anything like me, you want to go back.

John Wick (2014) is another one. This is a movie I was late in getting to, and all the recommendations sounded similar: 'yeah, it is a straight-up action film, but the action is spectacular, and the worldbuilding is really something else.' Both things were true. The action (directed by the former stunt director for the Matix trilogy) is tremendously impressive - maybe not enough to convince someone who is violence-averse, but quality stuff nonetheless. 

And there isn't a lot of room for world-building in a 101-minute movie that is (charitably) 60% fights and chases. But in those brief interstitial moments, you are ice again introduced to a strange new world - one that overlays the chaos of contract assassination and honour among thieves with rules, hierarchy, tradition and oversight.

It rarely does this explicitly, but instead relies on hints, clues, and glimpses of a mysterious superstructure. 1940s-style switchboards and green DOS-box computers are operated by women in post-war dress but with anachronistic facial piercings and tattoo sleeves. Gold coins enable the bearer to purchase almost any service, but no change is ever given. A stately downtown hotel hosts an astounding plethora of killers, with the expectation that no business can be done on the premises.

The structure is never the focus, and is alluded to rather than exposited, which cleverly leaves you wanting more. 

This coyness in building a world has prompted enough interest to merit two John Wick sequels (with a third on the way) as well as a television series based on the hotel itself. A movie with such a paper-thin plot and such a dependence on action set-pieces should be incapable of maintaining such a degree of interest over time, but the appeal lies as much within the world John Wick lives in as it does the creative lethality he displays.

Likewise, I am grateful to hear that we may finally be returning to the world George Miller created for Fury Road in not one, but two films. The first is a prequel featuring the Furiosa character portrayed by Charlize Theron to such tremendous effect, while the second, Wasteland, should show us what's next for Tom Hardy's Max Rockatansky on his road to redemption.

And with any luck, there are aspiring filmmakers watching these movies, and noticing the details, and making notes for worlds of their own creation. Worlds with verve and detail and distinction, worlds unique and intriguing, worlds filled with stories told and untold that keep us coming back for more.

(Slightly) Closer Together

After two months of working from home and physical distancing, this was the weekend we loosened things up - a little, anyways.

It was a beautifully warm weekend too - if not the first of the season, certainly the best. I spent Saturday afternoon refurbishing the barbeque I had bought back in 2014 at XS Cargo, replacing the carryover tubes and heat plates that rusted away to dilapidation, as well as the grill itself. With any luck, that will last us another three or four years and then we perhaps look at upgrading.

But Saturday also marked my eldest and her boyfriend going out for a year, and he had arranged to come over and spend some time in the backyard with her (from 2m away, bless him). We enjoyed some conversation in the sun while I assembled the various pieces and painstakingly removed the rusted screws holding the carryover tubes in place, and at suppertime I grilled some steaks and asparagus while Glory roasted potato wedges in the air fryer.

The fact that Bobby had to remove himself to the far end of the table did very little to impact the enjoyment of our first patio meal together, especially since the table never even got deployed last year following a cold, wet spring. Still warm even in the shade of the house, and with very few bugs to speak of we must have spent a couple of hours feasting, drinking and chatting.

The following day, Jeff invited the local lads over to his backyard for another socially distanced dinner, this time featuring the immense (12 lb.) brisket he had painstakingly prepared the previous day and began smoking for 6 hours on his Traeger at a little after 7 am (on a Sunday, on a long weekend no less).

I've never claimed to be a genius, bot only a fool would have turned down such a generous invitation, so I joined Jeff, his son Connor and two other friends shortly after our online D&D session was finished.

The Traeger is a fancy affair that not only uses wood pellets to smoke the food as it cooks, but employs two different thermometers to do this, one for the grill temperature and a probe that gives precise readings for the meat itself. This is all conveyed to an app on the user's phone via wifi, like a baby monitor for food. 'Primitive' cooking of meat with fire was never so high-tech!

Enjoying thin slices of tender, succulent beef brisket, plus roasted potatoes, some salads and a cold Red Rage ale from Jeff's cooler was heavenly. But it wasn't nearly as nice as simply sitting in a lawn chair in his backyard and shooting the shit with friends that I hadn't seen face-to-face in ten weeks. We took care to only handle our own utensils and keep two-meter spacing wherever possible, but it was the closest I had been to other people without masks in quite a while, and it felt great.

After couple of hours, the wind began to pick up and the clouds began to form, so the other guests and I reluctantly bade farewell to the backyard sanctuary and made our ways back home.

But it really did feel like perhaps a threshold had been reached, a kind of turning point in our respective isolations. The situation in Edmonton is far less grim than it is in Calgary and other parts of southern Alberta, but I am hoping that the easing of restrictions that began on Thursday can be kept up for a little while, at least.

Who knows what the "new normal" will look like, but hopefully it has room for friends as well as family.

G&G XIV.V: Getting Together While Staying Apart

It should have been different.

We had a hard time finding a date for this year's Gaming & Guinness that worked for everyone due to other commitments, seasonal vacillations, job changes and two of us having kids who are graduating high school this spring. We eventually decided on this weekend but didn't lock it down until January, whereas in previous years it's been established by the end of November. In the end, though, COVID-19 meant that travelling in from out of province for the 2-3 non-Albertans in attendance was a non-starter even if the half-dozen of us in town were willing to congregate together, which we weren't.

Back in April we reluctantly postponed G&G XV until September but managed to cobble together a virtual version (G&G XIV.V) for most of us this weekend, using the Tabletop Simulator available on Steam. I even had time to whip up a t-shirt using the awesome graphics Pete provided, thanks to curbside pickup from Staples and Mark's!

Friday night we gathered together in TTS and Google Meet to play one of our marquee games, Circus Maximus. A staple since G&G IV (or possibly II), this venerable chariot-racing game from Avalon Hill is not without its flaws, but supports up to 12 players pretty easily and is a furious mix of racing and combat.

This year was decidedly combat-oriented, and despite choosing a heavy chariot with scythed wheels, I didn't even complete a full lap before one of my damaged wheels shattered, flipping my chariot. My driver was mercilessly run down by a sadist who will remain nameless but is no doubt giggling conclusively as he reads this, since he took out two other drivers the same way. 

Pete's speedier chariot took an early lead, and by the end of the second lap, no one had any chance of catching him. A high number of DNFs didn't make the game any less entertaining though, and TTS has a great setup for the game that took very little adaptation for us to use.

Best of all was the interaction and catching up, the trash-talking and bad jokes mailing light of the terrible dice rolls of others. Some of us enjoyed some Guinness Bombs together remotely, and there was even a non-binding challenge coin check.

Saturday afternoon saw eight of us gather to race in Buenos Aires via Formula Dé, another long-time favourite due to its ability to have 10 players on the board simultaneously. A kit built in the Steam Workshop has digitized all the components for TTS nicely, and most of us had played in this medium a few weeks back. 

This was yer another race that saw it's share of DNFs, and only 4 cars of the starting eight actually managed to finish. I hit a couple of turns just right in the first lap, and was able to maintain my lead through the second lap and claim victory.

After a short break for dinner, the half-dozen of us who remained got in a game of Robo Rally. Normally this game supports up to eight, but this version from the Steam Workshop contained scripted elements that would handle elements like dealing cards, managing damage on your card, etc,. but only allowed six players.

Audrey and I played this game more than two decades ago with friends in Ottawa and loved how each player programs their movement and then watches helplessly as their plans are undone by the unanticipated movement of other robots or the conveyor belts and other items on the factory floor where the race takes place.

Despite being the second last player to reach the first checkpoint, I managed to be the first player to reach the third one and won the game, for perhaps the first time ever.

Half of the group turned in at that point, but, as has become tradition, Pete, Totty and I stayed up for a game of The Captain is Dead, a cooperative game similar to Pandemic, but set in a starship similar to Star Trek, complete with colour-coded uniforms. Unlike the other TTS games which were supplied for free by like-minded hobbyists, TCiD was a commercial purchase that even included a virtual room that uses the same modern art style as the game itself - a pretty good deal for $6.50!

Despite getting off to a good start though, the three of us were unable to repair our jump core and escape before the alien vessels punched through our shields and ended the game.

More players might have helped, so if we do this next time, perhaps we will badger more of the others to stay up late with us...

Like the other, "normal" years of G&G, the games were great fun, but secondary to the joking and conviviality carried through cyberspace to three different time zones. Having old friends sharing conviviality and fellowship in a shared space felt very real, even if the space we did it in was not.

Not Just Dixie-Whistling You Are

I belong to a Toastmasters club at work (ToastmAPSters, get it?), and we've been trying to keep meetings and speech projects going while everyone is working from home, but it's been tough and weird, as so much has been. Holding our regular (now bi-weekly) meetings in the Microsoft Teams platform has worked fairly well for the most part.

The Toastmaster of the Day serves as master of ceremonies, introducing the speakers and evaluators and keeping things moving along. They also create a theme for the meeting as well as a Word of the Day related to the theme. Whenever this word is heard, attendees indicate having heard it by knocking on the table; it encourages people to work a specific word when they are speaking, and also makes a good exercise in active listening.

This week, our TOTD chose Star Wars as the theme, and "hope" as the WOTD, which I thought was pretty clever of them. At the beginning of the meeting,she explained how the very first Star Wars movie from 1977 is now known as "Episode IV: A New Hope." This turned out to be a good thing, as two or three people of the dozen or so in attendance had never seen it!

The theme also provides an opportunity for the TOTD to ask anyone expected to speak a related question so they have something interesting to say during their introduction. After all, two of the more common intro elements, where do you work and what do you do don't cover very much ground in a corporate club like ours. This week's intro question was, "which Star Wars character do you feel you are most like?"

Now, my relationship with Star Wars has been both complicated and tumultuous since seeing it at age 10. My love of adventure and sci-fi movies and my appreciation for movie-making in general, as well as my interest in religion, weaponry and feudal Japan can all be traced back to seeing Episode IV at a young age. But then the prequels came and kicked my taste for all things Star Wars right out of my mouth, so I didn't bother watching any of the adjacent animated series or anything. After a long period of laying fallow then, the most recent trilogy came out, and I became optimistic again. I really enjoyed the first film (though it was derivative), appreciated the bold moves made by the second, and then watched the studio undo all that change as well as the well-deserved happy ending to the original trilogy by bringing back the original villain along with a nonsensical plot and by-the-numbers emotional closure for the new characters.

But then people I know and respect starting speaking in glowing terms of new series The Mandalorian on Disney+. And I read that showrunner Jon Favreau is actively trying to homage one of my favourite Japanese comics, Lone Wolf and Cub (holy crap, how have I never blogged about that before? [adds to list]). So now my overall sense of "meh" is once again in danger of being overwhelmed by exciting tales set in this mad universe George Lucas created (but is no longer directly involved with). 

So, yeah, like I said: complicated.

And despite the fandom that encompasses a good part of my life, I never thought of myself in terms of what character I might be like. And yet, who hasn't wished for the cocky swagger of Han Solo, the assured serenity of Ben Kenobi, the feisty imperiousness of Princess Leia? As an exploration of myth and of Joseph Campbell's hero's journey, we really do look to see ourselves reflected in these archetypal characters.

Except I never had.

I gave it a lot of thought (honestly, far more than it needed, being for a brief introduction) but was pretty happy with what I provided in response:

I really wish I saw more of Ben Kenobi in myself, but if I am being honest, I am probably most like Yoda. People sometimes find it difficult to understand what I'm saying, and I exist in a weird sort of space between ancient wisdom and comic relief.

Most of the group keeps their mics muted during our meeting, but I still heard some chuckles and saw some nodding of heads in agreement from those who know me (and had their cameras on.

When I told Fenya about it yesterday in the car, she hooted with laughter and said, "oh my gosh, it's so true!" 

At least there is a chance she is acknowledging some wisdom in there, I suppose.

Biscuit Flickers

Crokinole boards are kind of an odd piece of tabletop gaming equipment. You feel like you see them everywhere, and you even see them in television and movies, adorning the wall of a cabin or leaning against the wall of a rumpus room (yet almost never being played). My circle of friends is well into games, just about all games, really, and yet none of us actually possessed our own crokinole board. Well, until this weekend.

My household took the plunge through a circuitous course. I had never actually played the game until four of us were looking to try a game out on the Tabletop Simulator we had all gotten into as a means of keeping our gaming going during the COVID isolation. TTS is a PC app you can buy from online game distributor Steam, which creates a simulated 3D virtual tabletop with proper physics applied to it. 

Our primary motivation for collectively obtaining this product was boardgaming, particularly games like Formula Dé, which can support up to ten players, but seeing how well the physics worked for the many dice made us curious about games with a more physical dimension.

Screen capture courtesy of Earl Woods and The Earliad!

We pulled up a (virtual) board and sorted out the default settings (which actually prevent pieces from being moved once placed, normally a great feature!). Earl. who grew up with crokinole being the game of choice at holiday gatherings and such, walked us through the rules. The four of us had a great time, caroming the little discs (also called biscuits) across the digital playing surface.

Afterwards, I told Audrey about the great time we'd had and asked if she'd ever played, but her experience was similar to mine - had come across the board many a time, but either the discs were missing, or no one else wanted to play, or nobody knew the rules so it quickly devolved into a basic and boring game of drawing towa4rd the button like in curling.

Discovering that your shot only stays on the board if it strikes a disc from the opposing team was a revelation. With all the games we own, very few classic ones have an appeal to our household, but a strategic dexterity game that is simple to learn, difficult to master and fairly quick to set up really spoke to us. The fact that crokinole is yet another game invented in Canada, with a legacy extending all the way back to 1876, and which still holds its world championships in Tavistock Ontario, was just the icing on the cake.

And so it was on Friday that Audrey and I drove to Mission Fun & Games on Friday to pick up a crokinole board. 

We stopped at Jack's Burger Shack on the way back and brought home way too much food, so it was some time before we could really get into it. But Audrey and I got a fair number of games in over the afternoon, looked up some of the rules (do ricochets stay on the table? how do you score biscuits that are on the line?) and got a handle on some of the finer points of the game.

Taking video for fun came in handy at one point, proving that one of my discs had moved when I could have sworn Audrey had missed!

The occasional brilliant shot would be immediately followed by a stunner of a scratch, gliding across the table without making contact with anything. 

The best part came when Fenya was travelling through the basement, saw what the two of us were doing and asked, "so, this is...Date Day?"

"Yeah..." we both answered, maybe a little defensively.

Our oldest chuckled and shook her head as she walked away, "You nerds are adorable."

Tonight the four of us sat down for our first family game, with Audrey and Fenya beating Glory and I definitively, despite it being Fenya's very first game.

It was a lot of fun, if perhaps a teensy bit more competitive than we'd expected. Still, maybe a game so associated with cabins will be well-suited to helping us fend off cabin fever, eh?

UPDATED

And apparently, I am not the only one who thinks so - mere hours after posting this blog, the gaming site Polygon published an article called "Make 2020 the Year of Crokinole." The zeitgeist and I have never been affable up until now, but good grief, am I ahead of the curve for something? 

Frustrations and Revelations

It began in the afternoon, with the discovery that the condensate pump attached to our furnace was leaking. My initial instinct in all such matters is to bring in someone who knows what the hell they're doing, but after watching a 5 minute YouTube video, I felt empowered enough to take the cover off and make sure the float was moving freely.

Not two hours into my smugness, Audrey informed me that there was water seeping beneath one of the cupboards in the basement washroom (the fabled "BatCan").

Audrey emptied the cupboard while I continued to cut vegetables for the next day's stew, stewing my own self, then returning downstairs so the two of us could remove the cupboard and mop up the water. It was by no means a flood, but feeling the damp windowsill made us both fear for the worst. A cracked foundation? Leaky window wells? Being a man with next to no handyman skills at all, I was terrified by what we might discover. I imagined we might need to hire a professional just to figure out what the problem actually was.

The washroom cleaned, and stew underway, I went outside to start the barbeque in order to grill up some hamburgers for us for dinner.  While it was preheating, I grabbed the compost bucket from under the sink and took it out to the bin behind the garage.

When I opened the lid, I saw a mouse scurrying for cover under and around the vegetable discards and humus. Now, I hate the notion of mice in my dwelling at the best of times, of which a pandemic lockdown situation is not, and it is a short hop from the compost to the garage to the house in my estimation. I returned the bucket to the house, informed Audrey about my discovery, and got a spoonful of peanut butter to bait the traps in the garage.

I placed the traps close to the compost bin and opened the lid, only to discover that there were now two mice darting about. I grabbed a stick from a bundle of firestarter in the garage and jabbed into the compost, killing one of the mice, though it brought me no joy, what with my being a renowned softie and all.

I disposed of the stick and stepped back into the house to wash up and start grilling dinner, but before I could explain what I'd done, Audrey turned to me wearing her most disgusted look of the day and said, "The cupboard underneath the sink is saturated."

Sure enough, everything underneath the sink aside from the garbage can was either coated or filled with water. She and Fenya emptied the second cupboard of the day and began laying out some of the soaked items to dry, including a lot of plastic garbage bags. Once they were secured to the branches in the backyard, Fenya wistfully remarked, "Our apple tree looks like a bride - a ghost bride, mind, but still..."

After supper, I went back out to the compost bin to check the traps on the off chance there had been an early arrival, but instead, I opened the bin lid to see at least a half-dozen mice, frantically bounding around like popping corn. I closed the lid, and walked away, disgusted and perplexed.

Returning to the kitchen, I got a flashlight and got under the sink on my back, but couldn't see any more than I had after dinner. Was it possibly a leak in the roof draining down the inside wall of the house somehow? Was this seepage related to the water in the basement bathroom, directly below?

It occurred to me that we hadn't tried the sink since emptying out the cupboard. I asked for the water to be turned on, and after a moment, felt a fine mist upon my face. Taking my glasses off, I reached my hand toward the back of the cupboard, where the mist intensified. Feeling my way along the flexible hose connected to the pullout faucet, I discovered that, sure enough, the hose had become completely frayed. Well, at least we knew!

Once again, the impulse to call in a plumber was difficult to resist, but eventually recognized that replacing such components must be a commonplace affair. While I hopelessly scoured the internet to determine what part I might need, Audrey found the installation manual. Armed with the proper part number, I was able to order a replacement hose online which should arrive here Wednesday.

Yes, the mice are still going to be a problem, and I am constantly reaching for the kitchen faucet when I know full well I shouldn't, and to top things off, the condensate pump is still leaking.

But the furnace is overdue for a servicing anyway so we can sort that out this week (assuming we can find a technician still doing service calls!), and I can always get more traps to place around the bin.

But getting control of one problem was enough to give me a better disposition about all the rest. And besides that - it was nice to deal with something unrelated to COVID-19 for a change!