We didn't get it

A few months ago, The Kiefer Cottage was selected as a finalist for a great program for historic homes.  We were told we'd get anything ranging from a few meaningful things (seal up the exterior kitchen walls for instance) to a full-on, very expensive, whole house weatherization bonanza.

The work is scheduled to start Thursday.

And we're not getting any of it.

I am so bummed.  We did receive a free professional audit of the home completed along with a long list of recommendations to improve the energy efficiency of the house.  Apparently, our house deserves a gold medal in leakiness.

Our furnace is pretty bad, our AC worse, and we have little to no insulation in our attic (as well as no heat upstairs, but we didn't need a professional to tell us that!).  

We'll never know the reasons our house wasn't selected, although I do know the scope of the entire program was tweaked after we were assured we'd be getting more than a token, so I can't dwell on it.  And we are getting a few things like a water heater blanket and a low-flow shower head. I'm sure they'll be shiny and help us a bit.  (However, where is my free Obama cell phone? Okay, I have no idea what that whole thing is about, but I figure if I put it out there, maybe he'll send me one)

Yesterday, I pretty much knew the news about the grant would be bad, so I drove myself to distraction. That is, to the movie theater.

Argo was a great flick.  Intense, thrilling, and often very funny.  I left feeling better because I realized that Ryan is totally channeling Ben Affleck these days.  Just needs a full beard.  And perhaps to grow a few more inches.  Taller, that is.

Anyway, I'm currently drowning my sorrows in hard cider and trying to rework the budget (let's see, we can cut all fun from the spreadsheet.  Wait, already did that. That's why I blog. It costs me nothing) so we can buy a new furnace when ours finally kicks the bucket rather than just building a bonfire in the family room (the thing's like 30 years old. It's just a matter of time).  I'm thinking the girls are old enough to start their vaudeville careers, so we'll be having soft shoe boot camp every morning from now on.  I've always wanted to be a stage mom.

You say vaudeville ain't the thing anymore? Ugh, back to the drawing board.