Post #1672: Does anything really extend the life of a razor blade? Part 1, the setup.

 

Six years ago I decided to start using an old-fashioned (“double edged”) safety razor. 

I got a couple of “blade samplers” from Amazon — collections of maybe a dozen different brands, five blades from each brand.  I then bought a 100-count box of Persona blades.  They got good reviews and, at that time, they were made in Virginia.

Sometime this year, I’ll probably have to buy razor blades again.  So, obviously, we’re not talking about a huge per-diem expenditure, for shaving.  Nevertheless, whatever I buy this time, I’m going to end up living with it for years.  So I’ve been revisiting the market for double-edge razor blades.  And, incidentally, disposable razors. Continue reading Post #1672: Does anything really extend the life of a razor blade? Part 1, the setup.

Post #1671: The future belongs to Boaty McBoatface, or, Why it’s time to cash in my I-bonds.

 

Normally my posts tend to be reality-based and fact-oriented.

Today, by contrast, I’m having a hard time dealing with reality, so I’m going to blather about the current state of affairs in the U.S.A.

I will eventually get around to those I-bonds.  But it’s not exactly a direct route.


Business 101:  Scope of authority should match scope of responsibility.

Your scope of authority is the stuff you have control over. Things you can change.  Decisions that you get to make.  That sort of thing.

Your scope of responsibility is the stuff you’ll be held accountable for.  Financially, legally, morally, socially, or whatever.  It’s all the stuff that, if it goes wrong, you take the blame and/or penalty.  And if it goes right, you get the praise and/or reward.

If you’ve ever taken a class on how to manage a business, you’ve almost certainly heard some version of the maxim above.  In an ideal business — and maybe in an ideal world — each person’s scope of authority and scope of responsibility would coincide.

Where scope of authority exceeds scope of responsibility, you get irresponsible decision-making.  The decision-maker doesn’t have to care about the consequences of the decision.

Where scope of responsibility exceeds scope of authority, you get stress.  A classic case might be where a customer screams at a waiter over the quality of the food.  It’s not as if the waiter cooked it.  But the waiter is held responsible for it.

This is really not much deeper than saying that you should be held accountable for your decisions.  And, conversely, that you shouldn’t be held accountable for things outside your control.


Boaty McBoatface:  This is what happens when you violate Business 101.

Source:  Wikipedia

You can read the full saga on Wikipedia or the New York Times.

Briefly:  About a decade ago, an arm of the British government (the NERC) decided to make a major investment in a nearly $300M polar research ship.  That ship has the serious mission of measuring the effects of climate change in the earth’s polar regions.

As the ship neared completion, it required a name.  And so, to gin up popular support, they decided to choose the name of this new capital vessel via internet poll.

Hijinks ensued, in the form of the most popular name, by a wide margin, being Boaty McBoatface. The name was, in fact, suggested as a joke.  The guy who suggested it eventually sort-of apologized for doing so.  But it won handily.

In the end, the NERC reneged and gave the ship a properly serious name (the RRS Sir David Attenborough).   But they did name one of the autonomous submersibles the Boaty McBoatface.  As shown above, courtesy of Wikipedia.

This was a classic violation of Business 101.  The scope of authority — the right to name the ship — was handed to an anonymous internet crowd who bore no responsibility whatsoever for their actions.  Meanwhile, the people responsible for paying for and running the ship had, in theory, no control whatsoever over the name.

This is hardly the first time that a seemingly serious internet poll led to a frivolous outcome.  But it was such a stunning backfire that “McBoatface” has now become a verb in its own right, per the Wiktionary:

Verb

Boaty McBoatface (third-person singular simple present Boaty McBoatfaces, present participle Boaty McBoatfacing, simple past and past participle Boaty McBoatfaced)
  1. (neologism) To hijack or troll a vote, especially one held online, by supporting a joke option. [from 2016]
    
    

Did we just McBoatface the U.S. House of Representatives?

In the U.S., an election is an anonymous poll in which those casting votes bear no individual responsibility for the consequences.

It’s hard for me to see much difference between that, and a typical internet poll.  Other than the fact that it’s difficult to vote twice.  And that some people actually do take elections seriously.

I guess it’s a bit pejorative to suggest that the current chaos in the House of Representatives has occurred because we McBoatfaced the last election.  Still, you have to wonder about the people who voted for candidates whose sole promise was to be loud and disruptive, and do their darnedest to interrupt the normal business of government.  Did they think that would be fun prank, the same as the McBoatface voters?  Own the libs, or whatever.  Or was that really their serious and thoughtful goal?

At least their candidates seem to be carrying through on their campaign promises.


What people are getting backwards about the current situation.

Here’s one that kind of cracks me up, but kind of doesn’t.  You hear a lot of people saying that the lack of a functioning House is OK, because the Federal government already passed a budget for FY 2023.  They won’t have to face that task until this fall.

I think that’s backwards.

Rephrased:  Senate Republicans saw this predictable train wreck months ago, and so worked with Democrats to pass the current (2023) FY budget.  That’s presumably because they already knew (or strongly suspected) that the House wouldn’t be capable of doing that.

Re-interpreting today’s events:  The predicted chaos has come to pass.  I’d have to bet, then, that there will be no new budget for the next fiscal year, and no increase in the debt ceiling.

The currently-funded fiscal year (2023) ends on 9/30/2023.  So that’s a known.  Even then, I believe that entitlement programs (Social Security, Medicare) remain funded.  It’s only the “discretionary” part of the budget that is not.

But as to when, exactly, we hit the debt ceiling, nobody can quite say.  Consensus seems to be mid-2023.

At that point, the Federal government will continue to make what payments it can.  So, likely, Social Security checks will continue to go out.  (Figuratively speaking — I don’t think they’ve mailed out physical checks in decades.) Other payments will not be made.


On lock-picking, McBoatfacing, and I-bonds

Source:  Covertinstruments.com

Which brings me to my final speculation.  Everybody is working under the assumption that, eventually, this will all get straightened out.  Somebody will figure out some way to rein in the House of Representatives so that they can do their required business.

By contrast, I keep asking myself, what if this is as good as it gets?

What if the house is permanently McBoatfaced? 

Back when I was a kid, we had joke Presidential candidates.  Comedian Pat Paulson was one.   There was a movement to elect the fictional TV character Archie Bunker as U.S. President.  And so on.  But everybody knew they were jokes, or that they were fictional characters.

Enter Representative Santos of New York.  Line, meet blur.  The people of that district definitely elected a fictional character.  They were simply not aware of it at the time.  To which we can add a handful of Republican house members whose sole platform appears to have been being mad as hell, and stating their unequivocal unwillingness to go along with anything required to conduct the business of government.  I guess we all now know they weren’t kidding.

A couple of days back, a friend asked me to see if I could open a couple of old suitcases that had belonged to her grandmother. Luckily, I happened  to own the Covert Companion (r) tool, pictured above.  The version I use has a few tools to help with what are called “low skill” attacks on locks.  (“Low skill” being an accurate description of my lock-picking ability).  Because I happened to own those crude little pieces of steel circled above, I had relatively little problem opening the simple warded locks on those suitcases.

But if I hadn’t had the tools, I’d have been helpless.  The only way to open the suitcase would have been to destroy it.  It’s a case of any tool, no matter how crude, being better than no tool at all.

Right now, I’m not seeing the tools in hand to fix the U.S. House.  Not even the crudest tactic that could possibly resolve the current impasse, let alone get the place functional going forward.  And, unlike those old suitcases, nobody has the power to destroy it, to achieve some end.  The House works the way it works, or doesn’t, until such time as it works well enough to change the way it works.  Which can’t happen.  Because right now, it’s not working.

Which finally brings me to I-bonds.  Is it smart to own I-bonds when the House is broken?

I’ve owned these for decades.  In fact, they are so old that they are going to quit paying interest just a few years from now.  Pre-tax, they pay just a bit more than the rate of inflation.  Most of the decades that I have owned them, they’ve paid little more than zero.  But now, as these things are reckoned, they are paying pretty well, compared to the alternatives.

But that high rate of return means nothing if you can’t spend it.  And of all the people the Federal government could choose to stiff, in the event of a permanent failure to fund the government or raise the debt ceiling, I’d bet that small bondholders would be right at the top of the list.  (N.B., I-bonds are marketed at small savers, with a purchase limit of $5000 per person per year.)

In any case, my conclusion is that if the House is permanently McBoatfaced, I might be wise to cash those I-bonds before we hit the debt limit sometime this summer.  Otherwise, I just get the feeling that the longer this goes on, the longer it’s going to go on.  Combined with the feeling that maybe this is as good as it gets.  That there is no tool for fixing it.

And that if everybody has their hand out, to the Feds, I’m going to end up at the back of the line.

I told you I’d get to I-bonds eventually.  It just took a while.

 

Post #1670: Time for reflection and garbage collection.

 

It’s a brand new year.  But if you expect “… and new beginnings”, or “… and looking forward”, or some other such fluffy nonsense, you’ve come to the wrong website.

Instead, I’m focused on “garbage collection”, as used by computer programmers.  More-or-less, it means freeing up memory or storage space by getting rid of obsolete, archaic objects.

In practical terms, this post is a bit of navel-gazing prior to re-configuring this blog.  After doing a bit of manual garbage collection (tossing out draft and private posts, emptying the trash can) I am left with more than 1700 valid posts, stretching back four-and-a-half years.  Much of that is material that nobody could possibly want to read again.  It’s time for archiving the obsolete, restructuring the rest, and getting on with it.  This post is my way of figuring out what I have, and what to do with it.

It’s just a question of figuring out what to do.  And, as importantly, figuring out how to do it.

Perhaps tellingly, the Wikipedia article on garbage collection mentions roughly 35 distinct computer programming languages.  Of which, I am familiar with exactly one:  Beginners All-purpose Symbolic Instruction Code (BASIC).

Seeking out the obsolete and archaic?  Perhaps I need look no further than the mirror.

Source for title image:  Wikipedia, Janus.


Preamble:  I will cease to exist if you close this tab.

N.B.  Younger readers, if any,  may feel free to substitute “app” for “program” throughout this section.  “App” is short for “application”, which in turn is short for “applications programming”– the computer code that actually gets stuff done, stuff-wise, taking input from you, the “end user” — versus “systems programming”, the code that allows the computer/phone/gizmo/app to function, written by computer programmers.  In my book, writing the Excel program itself counts as systems programming, while using Excel to calculate something is applications programming. New-school, Excel is therefore “an app”.  And yes, the rest of the discussion will be every bit as clear as that was.

I am (or was) a data analyst, writing my own little old-school computer programs to draw information out of data.  When you see original data analysis on this website, that’s me, plugging away with Statistical Analysis System (SAS) programs.

It’s a job that demands “rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty.”  (That, per the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.)  For any given task, I may be clueless about what’s actually happening in the real world, or how a particular set of data was created.  But I need to be as sure as possible that the computer program I’m using does exactly what I say its doing.

In the modern lingo, I am well-versed in “procedural” programming.  A  program consists of things that are very close to plain English sentences, showing what I’m doing to the underlying data.  Except for the arcana, anyone with a logical mind can look at programs of that sort and get the gist of what’s going on.

It’s not rocket surgery or brain science.  Even if you don’t program in SAS, you can probably figure out what I’m doing, below, literally a piece of the program that I currently use to analyze COVID-19 case data.  This, even if some of the arcana of SAS programming may strike you as a bit odd.

* this section fixes known anomalies in the data, usually when old cases are dumped in (negative adjustment) 
* or when duplicate cases are pulled out (positive adjustment), so that the adjusted data reflect the actual 
* ongoing flow of new cases ;

if state = "New Jersey" and date ge input("20210104",yymmdd8.) then do ; 
    cases = cases - 57652 ; 
end ;

* etc ;

Quaint, right?  It’s computer code designed to be read and understood by humans.  If you’re looking at the case counts from New Jersey, and the date is greater than or equal to January 4, 2021 (2021 01 04), subtract 57,652 cases.  (Because that’s the day they dumped that many old cases into their count data, producing a big spike in the numbers.)

This “procedural programming” mindset is an almost insurmountable handicap when it comes to understanding how a blog functions.  It’s just not how things are done any more.  I don’t think that internet programmers actually go out of their way to make the logic of their programming as indecipherable as possible.  But “indecipherable” pretty much sums it up.

By contrast to the above, here’s a little baby snippet of C++ code.  If I stare at it hard enough, I can eventually figure out what it does.  But I have to say, it’s not like they went out of their way to make it easy.

#include<iostream>
using namespace std;

int main()
{
    int num1, num2, add;
    cout<<"Enter Two Numbers: ";
    cin>>num1>>num2;
    add = num1+num2;
    cout<<"\nResult = "<<add;
    cout<<endl;
    return 0;
}

Source:  Codescracker.com.  This piece of code adds two numbers together, so it’s roughly analogous to, but somewhat simpler than, the SAS code above.

As a consequence, even though I have been writing computer programs for the majority of my lifetime, computer programming related to the internet (and to phones) leaves me baffled.  It’s a combination of things:  The odd argot to describe even basic concepts.  The emphasis on “user friendly” interfaces that hide the actual computing going on.  And what seems to be a never-ending competition to see which object-oriented language can write their operations in the most dense, opaque, and obscure fashion possible.

This is a serious handicap when the goal is to reorganize the roughly 1700 posts on this website.   I keep thinking up simple things that I’d like to do.  And I keep being completely stumped as to how to do them.

Worst, because I don’t really understand what’s going on, I take a guess as to how this website works, based on my “procedural programming” background.   I figure out how I’d do it, and more-or-less assume that’s how things work.  These guesses are invariably wrong.

As a result, more-or-less everything I assumed about how this blog actually functions has been incorrect.  That now matters quite a bit, as I try to re-organize 1700 blog posts.

Here’s my fundamental misunderstanding:  Where are my blog posts stored, on the server that hosts this blog?

Seems like a reasonable question.  The answer is: No.

I figured that if I had 1700 posts appearing here as 1700 pages, then, somewhere on this website, there must be 1700 readable files that contain those posts.  Because that makes sense to me.  Compile each post once, then display that on demand as any end-user wants to see any given post.  Therefore, logically, I ought to be able to find each post as a human-readable file.  Somewhere.  And it was just a question of figuring out where.

Or, even more simply, page:book :: post:blog.  Naively, if this blog is like a book, then I’m asking where the individual pages of that book are stored.  So that I may lay them all out in one place, look at them, and re-shuffle them to re-organize this blog.

But, as it turns out, that’s fundamentally wrong.  This post — what you’re reading right now — does not exist.  Not as any sort of file, on (say) a disk drive, on a computer.  Nothing that you could search for and read, natively, on the server for the host of this blog.

Instead, this post — the text you’re reading right now — exists only as a single, long, unreadable line in an SQL (structured query language) database.  (That’s what’s shown in the blue block, above, courtesy of reading my website backup files using an extremely old-school piece of software known as Vedit.)

That  — that ugly, unreadable unformatted bloc of crap above — that’s how my posts actually exist, in the real world.  They exist as entries in a database.  All 1700 of them.  The only practical way to extract the text of those posts is to query that database.  And, as far as I can tell, the software to allow me to analyze that content, so that I can reorganize it efficiently, simply does not exist.

Worse, the only readable blog pages are totally ephemeral.  They exist only as what WordPress compiles, on the fly, and presents to you on your screen.  You literally look at a unique copy, constructed in real time, just for you.

When you close this browser tab, this blog post will cease to exist.  In the sense that there will be no human-readable form of it, anywhere in the universe.  (Unless somebody else has a browser window open to this blog entry.)  The only permanent version of this blog post is that incomprehensible blue block of text above.

The screwy upshot is that many things I’d like to do to reconfigure this website — things that I figured ought to be easy, based on my old-school, “procedural” view of the world — are flatly impossible on a WordPress website like this one.  Because the things I’m looking for — my blog posts — don’t really exist.

It’s a whole new world out there, programming-wise.  And the more I know, the less I like it.

But on with the show.  Even if I can’t yet actually implement the changes I need,   I can still figure out what content I want to keep and toss.


Blog history 1:  MAC zoning, 2018-2020.  We won?

This blog began in 2018 as an act of desperation.  I was trying to organize opposition to a local zoning ordinance — so-called “MAC” zoning — in my home town of Vienna VA.

MAC zoning was repealed more than two years ago.  Repealed, in some part, thanks to the reams of analysis posted on this blog.  And to some well-designed yard signs, above.

A big chunk of what I did via this blog was simply to record what was said and done, and remind people of it, because otherwise they’d conveniently forget (Post #268).  That, and occasionally doing the calculations and measurements that the Town Council should have been doing (e.g., traffic noise adjacent to Maple Avenue).

The yard signs have long since been collected and recycled into raised garden beds (Post G05, June 2020). 

It’s time to do that for the hundreds of pieces of analysis that I posted on MAC zoning.  Except for the occasional piece that has relevance beyond that local ordinance, such as this post on acoustics.  And a handful of others that occasional get a hit.  In the main, I don’t think anyone could possibly care about a law that’s no longer on the books.

The only practical impact on this website is that I can greatly simplify the list of blog post categories.  If you try to search this blog by category, you’ll see a lot of seemingly useless stuff (e.g., “Building Height”).  All of that dates to the MAC era.  And all of that can be eliminated now.

I say “we won?” because after rescinding MAC zoning, the Town of Vienna immediately decided to redo all of the zoning regulations.  Complete overhaul.  Nothing was out of bounds.

But, as far as I can, there seems to be consensus to keep it small.  And the staff member who was arguably the driving force behind some of the crazier parts of MAC zoning (E.g., Marco-Polo-Gate) has since moved on.  So I’m not seeing a lot of value in keeping a close eye on this any more.

Verdict:  Garbage collection, with a few exceptions.  My plan, if I can implement it, is to write all those posts off to one large file (likely as a .pdf).  Then remove them from the website.  Then remove all the MAC-specific post categories from the website.


Blog history 2:  COVID, 2020 – 2022-ish.  We won?

Then, in the spring of 2020, along came COVID-19.  At some point, I decided to track and analyze it, because a) what else could I do and b) I’m a retired health economist will the programming and other skills sufficient for processing and interpreting disease-related data.

Early on, I think that had some real value-added.  That’s true mainly because, early on, the U.S. CDC dropped the ball regarding airborne transmission of COVID and the need for masking.  They denied that airborne transmission was real, despite overwhelming examples to the contrary.  They first said that masks were not required (social distancing only), despite the obvious failure of that policy.  Then switched to “cloth masks”, as if, at that point, there was still some risk that consumers might wipe out stocks of masks needed by health care providers.  (There was no risk — the retail channels had been wiped clean of N95s months beforehand.)

But the CDC eventually and grudgingly aligned itself with reality.  The vaccines came to fruition.  The absolutely horrendous initial case-mortality rate dropped to something a little less scary.

And we mostly just got on with our lives, plus or minus the million plus who died, the shocking reduction in U.S. life expectancy, the loss of in-person K-12 education time, the biggest increase in the national debt since WWII.  The hoarding, the shortages, the supply-chain issues, and the world-wide inflation.

And the nearly-endless bickering.  Let’s not forget that.

And the vaccine nuttiness and disinformation. Which I also must classify as literally endless, because it continues to this day.  No end in sight.

Latest from the CDC suggests that the folks who kept up with their vaccinations have a roughly 19-fold lower risk of dying.  To which, Florida responds:

Source:  CDC COVID data tracker, accessed 1/2/2023.

But, by and large, despite an ongoing 350 deaths and nearly 6000 hospitalizations per day for COVID (per the CDC COVID data tracker today), as a society, we’re over it.  Things have been stable for quite a while now.  And only about one eligible person in seven bothered to get the last dose of COVID vaccine.

Source:  CDC COVID data tracker, accessed 1/2/2023

Still, there may be a bit of value in continue to track this from time to time.  Lately, my sole value added has been in poo-poohing the notion of a “triple-demic”, and dismissing vague scare-mongering about a new winter wave of COVID.

Verdict:  Garbage collection of everything except for the last few posts.  At this point, I have about 900 posts on COVID on this website.  Which is a bit obsessive, as that works out to just about one per day that we’ve had COVID circulating in the U.S.  Keep COVID as a category, and maybe post every couple of weeks, if the data remain available.


Blog history 3:  Gardening: 2020 – ??.  The bugs won?

I started gardening during the pandemic, just as a way to have something to do.  Mostly, it started out as a way to get some exercise, because at that point, I believe gyms were shut down here in Virginia.

Arguably my most well-read gardening posts were the ones that tracked the canning lid shortage.  Because, at the end of the day, preserving food is part of the gardening process, for most of us.  More to the point, this was a serious problem for people who rely on home canning to provide a significant portion of their food, and it completely pissed me off that write-ups in the popular press treated it as some kind of a joke. So I took it seriously, and at one point had hundreds of hits per week on that topic.

Beyond that, it’s been more a case of testing various bits of garden advice you can find on the internet.  Much of which — surprise — turns out to be wrong.  It seems like a lot of gardening blogs repeat advice that they read, on other gardening blogs, without bothering to test it.  At the minimum, testing that advice rigorously satisfies my need to do the occasional bit of amateur science.

In addition, I spend some time explaining what I’m trying to do, and tracking how it goes.  I test equipment from time to time, such as pipe and such for irrigation.  Or Mason jars for frost protection.  And I think there’s some value added there.  And there aren’t a lot of posts.

Verdict:  No garbage collection, for now.  It’s not that many posts, and it’s only a couple of fairly discrete post categories.  Really, I ought to gather all that material into a small pamphlet, and be done with it.


Blog history four:  Ongoing:  The science and engineering section.

Every once in a while, when I can’t find a good answer to a question that’s bothering me, I’ll go ahead and test it myself, if possible (e.g., Post #1658)

Or when I see the need for some sort of helpful device, that I can’t find for purchase anywhere, I’ll gin something up (e.g., Post 1663).

And so on.  Just a potpourri of posts, whose sole link is that there’s some element of scientific method or engineering behind them.

Many of them have a very small, tightly defined audience. Such as this one, on making a floor-to-chair transfer device for paraplegics (Post #886).

The odd thing about these is that occasionally, out of the blue, I’ll get a lot of hits.  This has been true of my post on heated covers for outdoor faucets.  When the weather turns cold in early winter, I always seem to get a lot of hits on that one (Post #1412).

Verdict:  No garbage collection, for now.  No clue what to do with them, either, other than create a new post category for material of this type.


Blog History Five:  Other Town of Vienna material, ongoing.

I have more-or-less lost interest in posting about the Town of Vienna.  As I explained to a Town Council member a few months ago, it’s mostly that Town Council doesn’t get me nearly as angry now as they did in the past.

Arguably, I did quite a bit of good in the past, by (in effect) reporting on what was happening.

Mostly, when I started getting up to speed on MAC zoning, I noted that the Town often took months before posting any information whatsoever regarding what had taken place in various official Town meetings (e.g., Town Council meetings).  So I bought the biggest microphone I could carry, and started ostentatiously recording Town Council meetings and posting the recordings (with my index and commentary) the next day.  This apparently goaded the then-Mayor to get the official Town recording out before I did. To deny me the audience.

This has had the lasting effect of (at least) having recordings of most Town meetings, available in nearly-real time.  It’s still awkward, because the Town won’t let you download the recordings.  You have to view them through the Town’s approved interface.  And yet, with enough effort, interested citizens can pull those up in Chrome (not Firefox) and FF through them to find the information they want.  Whatever the shortcomings, it’s better than nothing.  Which is what we had before.

I still need to follow up on a few items.  The ongoing rezoning.  The coming train-wreck of Town elections (Post #1591).  But in terms of providing some sort of independent citizen oversight of what Town Council is up to, I’m just not up to the task.

Verdict:  Garbage collection, other than current topics.  I just don’t care enough any more to deal with it.


Conclusions?

There are plenty of other smaller categories to consider.  But I think this gives me some direction as to where I’m going with my blog reorganization.

Get rid of:

  • most of the old zoning-related material, and the associated categories.
  • pandemic-related posts, except those that are quite recent or have some abiding interest.
  • most material related specifically to the Town of Vienna

Keep:

  • a few posts on tracking COVID trends
  • science and engineering posts
  • gardening.

And I guess that’s where this blog is heading.

But keep in mind, as you read this post, that it doesn’t actually exist.  Per the discussion at the top of the post.

And that means that the biggest headache now finding any way to archive the older material, in bulk, in a readable format.  Arguably, I’ll be able to find some software to do that.  For sure, WordPress does not seem to have any native functions that will do that.

And once I’ve archived the old stuff in a form I’m comfortable with, I can concentrate on what comes next.

Post #1669: The true energy cost of humidifiers.

Source:  American Society of Heating, Refrigerating and Air-Conditioning Engineers.  This is from the 2016 ASHRAE Handbook—HVAC Systems and Equipment (SI), Chapter 22:  Humidifiers.

 

I’m a big believer in running a humidifier or two during the coldest part of the winter.  I harped on that point just recently, in Post #1640.  I do it as much for the health benefits (illustrated above) as for the comfort.

That said, I realize that I pay a considerable energy penalty for doing that.

Interestingly, a lot of people do not seem to understand just how large that energy cost is.  Here’s the trick:  You can’t measure it by the amount of electricity the humidifier itself uses.  If you have anything other than a boiling-water humidifier, by far, the majority of energy used to run your humidifier comes from your home furnace.

Which I shall now demonstrate, and briefly calculate.


Humidifier as a house-cooling device.

 

First, this ain’t rocket science.  Everybody knows that evaporating water cools things off.   For this next part, you just have to get your mind around what, exactly, is being cooled off by the evaporation from your humidifier.  And then, what you have to do about that, in the wintertime.

In the case of an evaporative humidifier, what is being cooled is the air inside your house.  The humidifier literally absorbs heat from room air.  You can easily prove that to yourself, as I did above.  My Vornado humidifier cools down the room air by about 5 degrees when used on its medium setting.

That’s just physics, and there’s no getting around it. No matter how you do it, converting liquid water into water vapor takes a lot of energy input.   Boil it, evaporate it from a humidifier pad, mist it into the air and let those tiny drops evaporate.  Or just hang your damp laundry inside.  If you start with liquid water, and end with water vapor, somewhere along the way, that water absorbed a lot of heat energy.  From somewhere.

At room temperature, it takes just about 700 watt-hours of energy to evaporate a kilogram of water (reference).  Which means that evaporating a U.S. gallon of water, at room temperature, requires somewhere around 2.5 kilowatt-hours of energy (or about 8500 BTUs).

And so, per the illustration above, if I want keep the room at 68F, I’m going to have to run my furnace to make up for the 5-degree difference between room temperature and the cool air coming out of the humidifier.  How much energy will my furnace have to supply?  Just about exactly 8500 BTUs for every gallon of water I evaporate.  Or, if I do a typical 2-gallon day, roughly 17000 BTUs or 5 KWH of energy, per day, will have to be added into the room air, that would otherwise not have to be supplied.

That works out to a rate of power consumption of (5000 W-H/24 H =) about 200 watts, averaged over the course of a 24-hour, 2-gallon day.  By contrast, the humidifier itself uses just 32 watts, run on medium speed.  The upshot is that the furnace supplies roughly 85% of the energy required to run that humidifier, in a room with constant temperature.

The actual electricity use isn’t quite that bad, because my “furnace” is a heat pump with a coefficient-of-performance (COP) of roughly 3.  That is, it releases about 3 watts of heat energy inside my home, for every watt of electricity consumed.  So it only uses electricity at a rate of about 70 watts, on average, to offset the cooling produced by the evaporative humidifier.


What’s the difference between a humidifier and a clothes dryer?

Answer:  Not much.

To drive this home, let me now compare the humidifier to a known household energy hog, the clothes dryer.  A typical home dryer uses about 3.5 KWH per load.  Here, if I ignore the COP advantage of the heat pump, my humidifier requires about 5.7 KWH of energy input per two gallons, including both the device itself (32 watts on medium), and the heat required to re-heat the air after it’s been cooled by evaporating water.

At which point, I’m hoping that a little light bulb goes off.  Because those energy use figures are pretty close.  Let me adjust them for the amount of water being evaporated.

Some time back, I figured that a typical load of laundry retained about 10 pounds of water (Post #910).  So that’s about 3.5 KWH of electricity, to evaporate 10 pounds of water, in a dryer.  But two gallons of water per day, out of an humidifier, is about 16.5 pounds of water.  So, at the rate my dryer uses energy, that ought to take about (16.5/10 x 3.5 KWH =) 5.8 KWH of energy.

In other words, per pound of water, your home humidifier uses just about exactly as much energy as your home clothes dryer.

Because, of course it does.  It has to.  Plus or minus a bit of wasted heat, your home clothes dryer does exactly the same thing as your humidifier.  It’s taking water and converting it to water vapor.  It just does it at a different temperature.

The only energy advantage my humidifier has over my clothes dryer is that the humidifier uses a more efficient heat source.  The COP 3 heat pump uses less electricity, per unit of heat, than the resistance heating elements in the dryer.  So the actual electricity use is lower, due to the magic of heat pumps.  (Plausibly, if you had one of the new heat-pump clothes dryers, there wouldn’t be much difference at all.)

Finally, if you have achieved enlightenment in this area, you now realize that hanging your laundry to dry, inside, in the winter, does not save anywhere nearly as much energy as you probably thought it did. Sure, you don’t run the dryer.  But you run your furnace instead.  That’s to make up for the cooling effect all that wet laundry has on your room temperature.  Which is exactly the same cooling effect that the humidifier has.

There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.


Sensible heat, latent heat, and conservation of energy.

Hang on, Mr. Conservation-of-Energy.  You’re saying that the humidifier is, in effect, withdrawing heat out of the room air?  Where does that heat go?

These devices:

  • Humidifiers (both evaporative and ultrasonic),
  • Personal air conditioners
  • Swamp coolers
  • Mist fans
  • Patio misting systems
  • Street-fair mist-cooling stations

all work by converting “sensible” heat — that is, air temperature –– into “latent” heat — that is, the energy embodied in water vapor as opposed to liquid water.

The energy is still there.  It was neither created nor destroyed.  It’s simply in a different form.  In this case, it’s in the form of the energy that’s in the water vapor, as opposed to liquid water.  If you could condense that water vapor back into water, it would release exactly the amount of energy it absorbed in making the transition from liquid water to water vapor.

And, as night follows day, any time you convert liquid water into water vapor, that’s going to absorb heat energy.  In all of the above, the heat comes out of the air, and the air cools down. For most of these devices, that’s the entire point.  For humidifiers, by contrast, that’s a regrettable downside.

My point being, physics doesn’t care about your opinion.  If you like street-fair cooling stations, or patio misters, because they cool you off — up to a claimed 30 F in ideal conditions (reference) — then, logically, you have to realize that your home humidifier is also cooling you off.  In the dead of winter, when that’s the last thing you need.

And that’s why running your humidifier, in the winter, takes just about as much energy as running your clothes dryer.  Per pound of water, that is.  From a physics standpoint, there’s not much difference between the two appliances.  One of them heats up air, and converts water to water vapor.  The other one converts water to water vapor, which then requires you to heat up the air.   The only difference is the timing, and the efficiency of your home heating system compared to the simple resistance heaters (hot wires) used in a typical clothes dryer.

Post #1666: Cold weather and R-values, from small to large.

 

For some people, cold winter weather brings thoughts of hot chocolate by the fireplace, cozy comforters, or maybe skiing.

By contrast, I find myself thinking about insulation and R-values.

So, in the spirit of the holidays, here are two R-value calculations that I’ve been meaning to make.


Heated outdoor faucet cover.  Sure, it works in practice,but does it work in theory?

Whenever the weather turns cold, I start getting lots of hits on Post #1412, on making an electrically-heated cover for outdoor faucets.  Of late, I’ve been getting more than a hundred hits a day, thanks to this recent cold snap and an offhand reference in an on-line forum for Texas Aggies fans.

One of the interesting findings was how little electricity it takes to keep the inside of the faucet protector warm.  For example, a mere 4 watt night-light bulb raised the interior temperature by 28 degrees.  That more than meets my needs in any cold snap likely to occur in my area.

But is it really plausible that 4 watts could do that?  Or was I (e.g.) mistaking heat leaking out of house for the impact of that small electric light?

Obviously, I could check that empirically by hanging up a standard faucet cover with no added heat, and seeing what the interior temperature was.  But, at present, it’s about 15F outside, so I’m ruling that out for now.

Instead, this is a classic cases of “Sure, it works in practice.  But does it work in theory?”  I’m going to do a theoretical calculation of the temperature rise I should expect, using the R-value (insulating value) of Styrofoam, the dimensions of that faucet cover, and the energy output of a 4-watt bulb.

I’m going to model this as a Styrofoam box with dimensions 4.5″ x 4.5″ x 6″.  That effectively covers the open face of the faucet cover with Styrofoam, instead of (in my case) brick.  So I’m expecting to see more than 28F temperature increase out of this calculation.  The box walls appear to be about 5/8″ thick.

Two final bits of data.  The R-value of Styrofoam is listed by most sources as around 5.0 per inch.  And 4 watts is equivalent to about 13.5 BTUs per hour (BTUH).  (I rounded that down a bit to account for the small amount of energy that escapes from that bulb in the form of light, rather than heat.)

Here’s the calculation, first assuming foam on all sides, and then accounting for one side being brick, with a total R-value (for two inches of brick) of 0.88.  (I don’t show the full detail of the brick calculation, only the bottom-line average insulating value of the combined foam/brick container.)

The upshot is that this does, in fact, work in theory.  The theoretical temperature rise I get from an all-foam box is 41F, much more than I observed.  The theoretical rise I get if I replace one side of the box with brick is 28F, exactly what I observed.

It’s purely a matter of chance that this calculation hits the observed value exactly.  The fact that it’s close shows that what worked in practice, does, in fact, work in theory.


3000 gallon insulated tank in the middle of Montana

I’ve been watching Engels Coach Shop on YouTube for some time now.  The proprietor is a self-employed wheelwright whose long-standing business builds and fixes all manner of horse-drawn transportation.

This has absolutely no practical relevance to my life, but is purely a pleasure to watch.  Not only for the actual work performed, but also because the guy knows how to film, edit, and narrate a video.

Of late, he installed a 3000-gallon above-ground tank for watering his cattle.  To which you might reasonably say, so what?  Until you realize that he’s in Joliet, Montana. To put it mildly, the combination of an above-ground water tank and a Montana winter constitutes a freeze risk.

On the one hand, it’s heavily insulated (reported R50 on the sides, R120 on the top), and the water itself stores considerable heat energy.

On the other hand, it’s in the middle of Montana.

Source:  Western Regional Climate Center

Apparently his YouTube following is deeply divided on whether or not they think this will work.  Mr. Engels seemed kind of amused at the folks who thought he was going to end up with a giant ice cube.  For my own part, I’m guessing it will work just fine, based solely on the guy who built it.  But I don’t quite grasp why he seems amused by the opposite opinion.

So rather than just guess, let me do a couple of crude calculations.  From the standpoint of the arithmetic, it’s really no different from my faucet cover.  Just bigger.

First, I wanted to check out the water tower in Joliet, MT.  Just to be sure that a big enough tank, with enough throughput, would not freeze in that climate.  But when I tried a trick that always works for finding water towers on the East Coast — use Google Earth, set the perspective flat, and look for a water tower to stick up above the houses, because they are all 120 feet tall, more-or-less  — that didn’t work.  This, despite the fact that there is a municipal water system with a 160,000 gallon tank.

That’s because the Joliet water tower is mostly underground.  Like so.  I have no idea whether that was driven by economics, or by threat of freezing.

Source:  Laurel Outlook

So, is a well-insulated tank, above ground, a problem or not?

The first hint that it’s not a problem is that the total heat loss of this tank is maybe 16 times the heat loss of my faucet cover.  This tank is enormously larger.  But it’s also enormously better insulated.  The combination of having about 300 times the surface area, and maybe 20 times the average insulation, is that, by calculation (below, highlighted in yellow), this tank only loses a bit over five BTUs per hour per degree F.  That’s just 16 times the heat loss in my Styrofoam faucet cover.

Here, I’ve assumed a tank shaped like a cube, with an average R-value of 60 on all surfaces.  Should be close enough for a rough cut like this:

Well, given that a four-watt bulb would heat my faucet cover, it should be no surprise that even a modest heat input would (eventually) result in a large temperature differential between the inside and outside of that tank.  Where four watts was enough to create a 41F difference in my all-foam faucet cover, here, a typical stock tank heater (150 W) would (eventually) generate a massive 94F difference between interior and exterior of the tank.

That’s a big enough difference that (arguably) this simple linear R-value calculation does not exactly hold.  I don’t think that much matters.  If for no other reason that, given the tiny heat input (about the same as you would use to heat a cup of water to boiling for tea), it would take years to reach equilibrium.

(Well, might as well calculate that roughly.  This is about 25,000 pound of water.  To raise that by 94F, with zero losses, using a 150W heater, would take just over half a year.  With losses, yeah, a couple of years.  If then.)

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that, if the tank is well-mixed, running a 150W stock tank heater inside it would, in fact, guarantee that it would not freeze under almost any conceivable circumstances in that climate.

But there’s no electricity at that site.  Instead, the tank has to “coast” all winter, using just the energy embodied in the water in the tank itself.

So, how much energy is there in that water?  How much heat would you have to remove to take water, at a typical late-summer temperature for that area, and bring it down to 32F?

By definition, a BTU is the amount of energy required to raise one pound of water by 1 degree F.  So if (say) the water starts out around 62F (late summer/early fall), it would have to lose over three-quarters of a million BTUs in order to reach 32F.  As shown below, bottom line.

Now I’m going to do a little hypothetical calculation.  Let me plop that tank down in January, in Joliet, MT, and see how much it cools off over the month.  That is, let me start with that tank at 62F, and let it sit for 31 days with an average external temperature of 24F — the actual average temperature for that month and location.  This should be a worst-case scenario for temperature loss, because it’s the largest temperature differential you could hope to see.  Water temperature from late summer, against dead-of-winter air temperatures.

Here’s the simulation.  I just calculate the daily heat loss, and then drop the temperature each day, using that heat loss (in BTUSs) as a fraction of the total heat embodied in the 62F vs 32F water. (That is, I pro-rate the BTUs of daily heat loss over the total 750K BTUs that would take the water from 62F to 32F).

OK, I finally get the joke.  Worst case, this tank ought to lose just over 5F per month, in the coldest month of the year.  And note that the cooler the tank gets, the slower the additional temperature loss gets.  For all practical purposes, the likelihood that the tank will freeze is zero.

(Note that the calculation is linear in temperature, so that it doesn’t really matter if the temperature does up and down in January.  The average heat loss is going to match the average temperature.  There are more refined physics calculations that will add some slight non-linearity to this, but not enough to matter).

Unsurprisingly, this tank isn’t just built for that climate.  It’s over-built.  Some of my assumptions might be a bit off.  The tank is a cylinder, not a cube.  Likely I could have calculated the average insulation value better.  I don’t really know the insulation value for the bottom of the tank.  And so on.  But even with that, this seems to have been built with a huge margin of safety.

I should have expected no less.

Post #1665: COVID-19 cases, final post of the year: No change

 

Today we get our final bit of hard data for 2022, on the reported number of new COVID-19 cases.  If past years are any guide, for the next few weeks, the holidays will scramble the data so badly that we’ll have no clear idea about the trends, if any.

Unsurprisingly, there’s no trend at the moment.  Pretty much the same as it’s been for the past few months. Continue reading Post #1665: COVID-19 cases, final post of the year: No change

Post #1664: DC Cold snap? Not really, by recent historical standards.

 

With all the coverage of the big winter storm sweeping the country, you’d think that the coming cold temperatures were unprecedented.  And, for sure, it’s a big storm. And temperatures are going to drop a lot.  Might even set some records, somewhere.

But we tend to lose sight of the modern context.   Winter nights are much warmer now, on average, than they were just a few decades ago.  In the Washington DC area, what we perceive as an outrageously cold night in the 2020s was merely a cold night in 1980s.

In fact, the main temperature impact of global warming is exactly that — warmer nights.  And while you can’t infer global warming by looking at temperatures at a single point on the planet, you can remind residents of the DC area that winter low temperatures used to be much lower, on average, than they are today.

Here’s the official temperature data from Dulles International Airport, via NOAA.  I’ve simply taken the lowest recorded temperature for each calendar year, and plotted that.   (The 9 degrees for 2022 (so far) occurred back in January 2022).

Source:  Analysis of weather data via NOAA.

Every year in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s had a lower minimum temperature than we are expecting from this super-storm. Almost every year in the 1990s, 2000s, and 2010s, ditto.

Similarly, we can check how common a low of 8F or lower was, back in the day.  And the answer is, relatively common.  For Dulles Airport, in the 1960s to 1980s, an average year had between seven and eight nights when the temperatures dipped to 8F or colder.

Source:  Analysis of weather data via NOAA.

What was once a commonplace wintertime occurrence in this area —   nighttime low of 8 or lower — is now a rare event.

When I was a kid, if it only got down to 8F around here, and only did that for a single night?  That would have been reckoned as an exceptionally mild winter.   But now, that single 8F night is the remarked-upon cold weather event of the year.  Such is the slow and subtle impact of global warming.

The sheer area of this storm is unusual.  It will be packing some strong winds.

But around here, the “Siberian” temperatures it brings, with all the associated news hype, would not have been at all unusual half-a-century ago.  They only stand out in the context of the much warmer average nighttime temperatures that we currently experience.  The chill from this storm hardly registers as a blip in the overall trend of rising temperatures.

Post #1663: When you can’t see the traffic light ahead of you, the solution

 

The Problem

This is the followup to Post #1661.  The problem is that I frequently have to crane my neck to see traffic lights, in my wife’s Prius Prime, owing to the steeply sloped windshield.

The inability to see stop lights is hardly a new problem in the American auto industry.  In that prior post, I reviewed the century-long history of inventions that would let you see above the top edge of a car windshield.

I noted that in the modern era, you could solve this problem with a $30 dashcam.  But, really, where’s the joy in that?

Instead, I turned my back on that obvious solution and decided to come up with an optical device to let me see above the top edge of the windshield.

The design criteria for this stoplight-viewing device are:

  1. Not hand-held.
  2. Not permanently in the field of view.
  3. Not permanently mounted.
  4. Adjustable.

A new solution to an old problem.

My solution is a negative Fresnel lens, mounted to the sun visor so that you can flip it down when you need it, and flip it up out of the way when you don’t.

In this case, a “negative Fresnel lens” is a flat plastic lens sold as an aid to seeing around blind spots on vehicles.  (Negative refers to negative focal length, meaning this isn’t a magnifying glass, it’s a “shrinking” glass.)  Typically, these are used by large vehicles as an aid to backing up.  The lens allows the driver to see objects that can’t be seen directly through the back window of the vehicle.

Below, note that the top of the cloud is obscured by the roof of the vehicle.  Yet, you can see the top of the cloud in the shrunken image in the Fresnel lens.  This is precisely what I want to happen, for stop lights obscured by the roof of my car.  I want to use a negative Fresnel lens to pull them into view.

Source:  The lens I bought for this project, for about $10, on Amazon.

Some variation of this technology is used on the LightInSight.  This is an aid to viewing stoplights consisting of a long, narrow Fresnel lens designed to be stuck to the of the inside of the windshield.  The product illustration below is completely unclear, but the LightInSight does exactly what the lens shown above does:  It pulls images from above the top edge of the windshield down into the driver’s view.

Source:  Amazon.

From my standpoint, the LightInSight has a couple of drawbacks.  First, it’s permanently in the field of view.  I don’t want that.  I want it out of the way when I don’t need it.  Second, Fresnel lenses fail when viewed at sufficiently shallow angles.  The higher the power of the lens, the sooner that happens.  I feared that the LightInSight, however well-designed, was not going to be usable on the extremely sloped Prius windshield.  Or, if it did, it would have to be a relatively low-power lens, and provide only a modest boost to visibility above the roof of the car.

Instead, I wanted a relatively high-powered negative Fresnel lens, mounted perpendicular to my line of sight.  But mounted so that I could put it away when it wasn’t needed.

Finally, I rejected the use of a cheap positive (magnifying) Fresnel lens.  That would have made fabrication a lot easier and cheaper, but it would have produced an image that was upside-down and side-to-side reversed.  To me, typically facing a string of lights at a multi-lane intersection, that just seemed like a recipe for an eventual disaster.

The rest is just tinkering.


Results

Other than the Fresnel lens, I tossed this together from scraps lying around the garage.  Size, shape, and method of attachment were therefore more-or-less determined at random.

Here are the materials.  The flexible Fresnel lens needs some sort of clear, hard plastic sheet to be affixed to.  I decided to tape the lens to the plastic sheet with clear packing tape.  And I decided to have this rest above the sun visor, held on with a couple of pieces of elastic, run through holes drilled in the hard plastic.

The only thing that is even remotely tricky is that the Fresnel lens is not uniform.  By design, the bottom and side edges do a much better job of pulling images into the field of view, compared to the top edge.  And after you cut it, you want to be looking through that external edge to find your stop light, not through the (much weaker) center of the lens.  The upshot is that you want to cut your piece out of the bottom of the Fresnel lens, and you want to mount that so that the edge of the original lens ends up where the holes are drilled in the plastic.

Below I show the first test.  It sits above the sun visor, held in place with two piece of elastic.  To deploy it, pull it forward and let it hang off the front of the sun visor.  When you are done, slide it back into position above the sun visor.

In the three pictures below, I’ve circled the one-way arrow to keep you oriented.

The first picture is the intersection, as seen when sitting up straight in the driver’s seat.  The light is obscured by the roof.

Second picture show the traffic light from the “slouch and crane” position.  Normally, I’d slouch in the seat and crane my neck to watch the light.

But with the Fresnel lens, I can see the light without slouching.  This may not look like much in the photo, but it was perfectly adequate for monitoring the light to see when it turned green.  No slouching required.

This will win no beauty awards, but it works, and it’s unobtrusive.  When not in use, all you can see of it is the thin pieces of elastic circling the sun visor.

This could definitely use some tweaking if there were any need for an improved version.  First, it’s far larger than it needs to be.  Second, I’d probably glue the lens down, rather than tape it.  Third, I’d probably cut a section from the less powerful portion of the lens (the top), as the lens is far more powerful than it needs to be to provide a clear image of the light.

By far the biggest drawback — totally unanticipated — is that you have to focus your eyes on the Fresnel lens, not on the road.  Beyond being an annoyance, that means you aren’t focusing on the roadway in front of and around you.  When the light turns green, you then have just a split second to refocus on the roadway and check conditions.  This strikes me as a significant safety drawback to this device.  Enough that maybe I want to rethink the whole thing.

But the bottom line is that this does what it’s supposed to do.  It provides a usable image of a stoplight that would otherwise be obscured by the roof of the car.  Thus, I carry forward the century-old tradition of ad-hoc “signal viewing devices” that let you avoid craning your neck to see traffic lights.

Post #1662: COVID-19 cases, no change

 

I’m checking the new case a couple of times a week, consistent with most states now reporting data about once a week.

There’s nothing new to report.  Depending on how I choose to gap-fill the spotty state data, the new case rates are either level or falling slightly.

Per the CDC, we still have about 350 COVID-19 deaths a day. It’s been around that level for months now.

And we’re back over 4000 new COVID-19 hospitalizations a day.  That figure had gotten down close to 3000 a day, as of a month or so ago.   But respiratory (and cardiovascular) hospitalizations always increase with colder weather.  So that increase is  likely as much a result of winter as of any new spread of COVID.

In short, we’re stuck in neutral.  No winter wave.  But no fading away, either.

Continue reading Post #1662: COVID-19 cases, no change