This Old House, Glaser Edition

Thursday, January 24, 2008

This Media-Hogging, Limelight-Loving Old House!

We have not posted in two weeks, so Glasers Old House decided to grab the spotlight and force us to blog. How? The said house created such excitement for the Glasers that we could not resist blogging about the drama. Of course, it picked one of the coldest, wet nights to launch its fiendish plot. It chose late on a Saturday, too. Why, Saturday, you ask? We live in a state with the blue laws, which means that we could not buy the one teeny, tiny part that we needed until 1:30 P.M. on Sunday afternoon. You see, in 1885, South Carolina enacted a law that forbade "any worldly labor, business, or work of the ordinary callings upon the Lord's Day."

Since then, legislators have whittled away at that law with a bunch of exceptions. Business establishments cannot sell liquor, but they can sell tobacco. You cannot buy a DVD player or DVDs, but you can buy cameras, film, and batteries. You can purchase underwear, diapers, and panty hose, but not socks and other kinds of clothes. (Tammy is relieved that she can still pick up hose on the way to church if her last pair develops a run.) You can still get sick or die because pharmacists and funerals are allowed to operate. At least they have their priorities straight!

Some counties have repealed the blue laws, but efforts to end the blue laws statewide have all failed. The state capital Columbia is seated in Richland County, which dumped the blue laws. Its neighbor, Lexington County has kept the blue laws, which means that desperate shoppers cross the border to do their Sunday morning and early afternoon shopping.

But, what about Wal-Mart? Wal-Mart opens in the morning as always and blocks off the forbidden zones of the store with yellow crime scene tape. The check-out clerks are not supposed to ring up any Sabbath contraband, but we have never tried to sneak anything throng the self-check-out line.

But, we digress. Phase One of Operation Limelight was when the heating unit downstairs went stone cold dead on us. Fortunately, we had heat upstairs and oil heaters in the two rooms in which we spend the most time (Steve's office--i.e., TV room--and the kitchen). If Tammy got too cold, she could always put on the Clint Eastwood-esque alpaca poncho and toe warmers to wear under her moccasins. So, they cranked up the oil heater and sat back down on the leather couch to watch a few more episodes of Monk.

Steve's suspicions became aroused during Phase Two when the hot water heater died. Now, that was a real crisis! How can Tammy do her hair without hot water? Steve can hardly get a decent shave with hot water. How could any of us get cleaned up for the Sabbath we were supposed to be celebrating? Two dead heating units in one day were too much of a coincidence for Steve. While Tammy sat placidly watching television, Steve carefully searched and uncovered the reason for this double tragedy.

(To be continued--or it's 10:33 P.M. and we are too tired to type.)


We did find a technicality in the law. One of the exceptions would have allowed us to purchase a part for an emergency heating situation. How can we buy a legal and legitimate part if the store is not open? Here is the text of the exception:
The transportation by air, land, or water of persons or property, nor to the sale or delivery of heating, cooling, refrigerating, or motor fuels, oils, or gases, or the purchase or installation of repair parts or accessories for immediate use in cases of emergency in connection with motor vehicles, boats, bicycles, aircrafts, or heating, cooling, or refrigerating systems, nor to the cleaning of motor vehicles.


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