...and then, the night before Gordon headed out for his two-day (each way) haul (with horses) to do his Renaissance Cavalry weekend thing in California, the pump for the pressure tank in the well house fried itself. We knew it was coming, because that pump was old and sounded like the bearings were about to burst into flames, but... TIMING, people! To make a looooong story short: after buying a new pump and watching three people try to hook it up (of course our neighbor Frank is the one who finally made it all come together) I now have running water again.
Water tower. That's what I want for Christmas. Gravity is free and doesn't take a break when the electricity is out.
Happy news: my wounded chicken, a week and three days after being mauled, is doing great. She's living in a wire dog crate on the kitchen table and is mending nicely. She has a broken toe, but I don't know what I can do about it since it's been over a week (I didn't notice it until I had her in the crate where I could really watch her move around) and she'd just pick off a splint, anyway. Her bites are healing up with no perceptible infection, and new feathers are coming out to the tune of about 1/4 to 1/2" already! Amazing.