Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Today the nice people from Centraire came to install the hydronic in-floor heating. Or at least they installed some of it--I'm not sure if they're really done. When I returned from work, the big plywood pieces covering the kitchen floor that was no longer a floor were gone, and there were tubes neatly wound around between the joists. (I think they're called joists). In order to get to the dining room, I had to do a careful acrobatic walk on top of the joists, assuming that's what they are.
Balance has never been my strong point. (In yoga, when I do the tree pose, I generally topple). So I was pretty sure I would lose my balance and crash into the tubes, bursting them all,necessitating a re-installation that would cost twice as much.
The big pieces of plywood were still in the kitchen, but they were leaning against the walls. I considered putting them back down on the floor, but I was afraid that whatever was in the tubes would explode. I figured that the installers must have had a reason for not returning the plywood to its pre-tubing condition, and the most likely reason for that, I reasoned, was that otherwise they would explode. Perhaps they needed a 24-hour seasoning period, after which they would no longer be likely to explode. Granted, the explosion otheory seemed unlikely. But I generally think that if something is going to go wrong, it will go wrong by exploding. I have never used the cruise control mechanism on my cars for this very reason. Jim scoffed at me, but I found an article about a car with exploding cruise control, and I've noticed that he doesn't use it as often as he used to. This fear of explosions may be traced to not taking enough science classes. When I was in high school, the counselor told me that there was no reason for me to take physics because I was a girl. Even though I had been the top student in my chemistry class, which for some reason it was okay for girls to take, he thought physics would tax my brain. I believe that if I had taken physics, I would not be afraid that normal things don't just go around exploding. But the good part of this story is that the tubes did n ot explode, and I did not trip and fall.
I was amused to see the warning label on the tubing.
If anybody had walked into our kitchen, looked at the tubes, and had a sudden urge to drink whatever was inside them, it was a relief to know that they would have been warned off.