adventures in manhood

In addition to all my statistics calculations this week, I've been a man's man. I cleaned the garage. I replaced our kitchen faucet, again (the one I installed this spring was faulty, and we had to exchange it for a new one). I changed the spark plugs in Sarah's car. I was a man. The only reason I did these things was because I was avoiding doing the work of a real man: plumbing.

I don't think I mentioned it before, but the toilet in our guest bathroom had become completely detached from the floor about three weeks ago. How did that happen? Sarah really had to go, and there wasn't any stopping her, if you know what I mean. (Okay, I sat on it the day after the big storm and noticed it was loose. Part of the mattress had been resting on it while we were hiding from the hail. Furthermore, as I found out later, the toilet itself had been installed poorly.)

Like with most things, the problem didn't seem like it was going to be that hard to fix. Like with most things, it was hard to fix.

First I tried to work around the mistakes of the previous installation. The unpleasantness began when I was on my hands and knees peering up inside the toilet (which I had emptied and drained about 2 weeks ago). I was trying to line up some new parts on the toilet bowl with the newly exposed sewer pipe. I wanted to get it right, but I also wanted to get out of there quickly. Open sewer pipes aren't particularly pleasant. Sarah was helping me by holding the toilet steady as it rested precariously on it's front edge, tipped slightly so I could see underneath. I held the flashlight in one hand, and I used my other hand to fiddle with the new parts. My face was about an inch from the floor, and I was craning my neck to see what I was doing under there.

That's when a fist-sized ball of compacted poop slid down from it's perch on top of some sort of internal poop-holding shelf, past and against both my hands, and onto the floor next to my face. Plop.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel like vomiting immediately. But as the smell wafted over me and filled the room, some unpleasant thoughts began to collect in my head. "Hmmm... There appears to be more in there. A lot more." "Hmm... I think I'm going to have to clean it up if I'm going to finish." "Hmmm...  there's no telling how long that stuff has been collecting here. Definitely weeks. Maybe months. Maybe years. Maybe some of it isn't even ours." "Oh, the humanity!"

As I scraped it all into a box that had been sitting nearby, I pretty much lost it. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. Vomitorally.  I can still smell faintly it as I write about it. It happened 4 days ago.

It was a definite turning point in the whole operation. I took the toilet out into the yard, flushed it out with the hose, and let it sit in the 100 degree sun. Then I flushed it out with the hose again. Then I cleaned it. Meanwhile Sarah went to the store and bought bleach. When she got back, she gave all the surfaces in the bathroom a thorough cleaning.

I decided to scrap the attempt to fix the broken parts. I drilled new holes into the concrete foundation and installed a new brass closet flange (the thing that holds the toilet to the floor; the previous owners used a plastic one, and they installed it wrong, hence my current issue). Then I figured out that I could use a pair of washers to fix a design flaw in the new flange. Then I installed the new seals, put the toilet back on, and tried to forget any of it ever happened.

Unfortunately, I will never forget.

back to the grind

We were in Michigan all last week, but it's back to grind today. It was great to be there, and it was especially great to be away from here in the summer. Most days it was 20-30 degrees cooler there than here.

Despite a torrential downpour during the last hour of our trip (we even had to pull off the highway for a few minutes), we made it back safely last night around midnight. Twenty hours in the car is a long time, but it definitely could have been worse. We didn't hit any traffic or major construction delays, and the car didn't give us any trouble or anything like that.

Unfortunately, now that we're back, I have to get back to my homework.

fun with stats

All of the statistics I use as a researcher boil down to a simple equation.

outcome = model + error

Researchers come up with theories that try to explain the world (the model), but these models are always imperfect (the error). We use statistics to determine how accurately our models explain the way the world works (outcome).

Most of the statistical techniques used in psychology were invented by statisticians who are much smarter than I am. In some cases, they worked for years to make equations that would be simple enough for regular people to use. Today everything is really easy: There are computer programs that make the simple equations a snap to calculate. Instead of doing a TON of simple calculations by hand, you input your data into a program. With a few clicks of the mouse, the program tells you how accurate your model is.

The trouble, I'm told, is that to become a competent researcher, you need to understand the theory behind the complex equations. The best way to understand the theory? Hand calculations. Below are my 12 pages of calculations (each is front and back) from one assignment out of FIVE. It took me three days. The next two assignments will be much more intensive. I also did these calculations with the computer (also part of the assignment). That took less than a minute.

nice try jerk-face

We've had quite a few roofing companies stop by and offer their services in the last 10 days or so  I've gotten 3 bids so far ($4650, $4800, and $6681), but I'm waiting to hear back from the insurance company before I do anything.

The lowest bid was from a husband-and-wife team based about two miles from the house. When they came out to look at the roof, the husband drank a Slurpee from the ground while the wife went onto the roof to inspect it. Their Ford F150 had all sorts of ladders and equipment, and it looked like it had been used for a lot of jobs. They've been in business for a long time, so I figure they're probably a safe bet to do a good job. 

The highest bid was from a national company based a few towns over. Their guy came just before I got home for the day. When he came back a few minutes later to discuss the bid, he was driving a Honda Ridgeline without any equipment in the back (great driving truck, NOT a working truck). He was all about sales: from his pitch about how they use more nails than typical roofers, to the 'exact' bid of $6681 (designed to instill confidence because it is so 'precise').

When I asked him what he saw up on the roof, he gave me a stock answer about loose granules that would apply to any roof that needed replacing. Question: Given that there's nothing in the back of your fancy truck, how did you get on my roof without a ladder? Nice try, jerk-face.