The first thing rswfire discovered that day was that some of what he thought he had recorded did not exist — a couple of the videos had come out as still pictures, and he had been talking to himself into a frame that was not moving. He said so plainly, called it a little embarrassing, and started again. The thermostat on the wall read 60. He turned the camera toward it, noting that the image reverses, hoping the number would come through legibly for whoever was watching. He had brought the space up to 70 with the propane furnace and then shut the furnace off; it had dropped ten degrees quickly and then held, and it had held while he worked. He did not know what the reading had been when he started. What he knew was that it was staying.
Another capture, another entrance: 45 in here now. He came in from outside, put the burn on and the ceramic heater going, and the number began climbing fast. The last couple of days had bottomed out at 33 and topped out at 49 — even at the peak of the day, 49. That was the envelope he was working against, and he said he was hopeful. The plan was the same experiment as before: bring it to 70, kill the furnace, let the ceramic heater carry it, and watch what the room did on its own.
The kitchen wall came first. He had a panel to seal and he showed it — cut, fitted, slipping on perfectly, needing only screws. Three panels went back together. One cavity had nothing behind it at all, nothing under there, and rather than close it he left it open and set the question aside for the Fire Marshall, whose opinion he would get before deciding what could go in that space. The place was a mess, and he was keeping the cats out of it until the cleanup was done. Then he looked at the next area and decided to take it before the bathroom, right now.
He showed that wall in stages. Stage one: nothing done. There was a seam that did not close — he had seen it when the light outside was bright, and cold air was coming through it. He named the gap in his own skill in the same breath as the gap in the wall: he needed to learn how to fix things like that, and for now he was going to block it off. Reflectix against the wall, then pink insulation, then Reflectix again. The factory seat belts were in the way, but the bolts holding them would not come out, so he covered them in insulation instead of fighting them, preserving them intact in case he ever traded the rig in. He worked the tape he loved — easy stuff, good to handle — and worked through it fast. He was running out. The Jeep was gone for three days, so a big roll was coming from Amazon in the morning.
Some of the work happened where he could not see. Up in the cavity, above the line of sight, he worked by feel, and he said aloud what he thought was true: with practice, with skill, you learn to see with your hands. He also said he did not have the patience for that today. He wanted to layer it better than he was layering it. He could still feel cold air coming through, and he said so, and he taped what he had tape for, and decided that the second layer would have to make it good enough. Then the pipe insulation — foil-backed fiberglass, sitting there for another purpose — occurred to him mid-sentence, and he put it in. The idea, stated clearly for the camera: make use of what he had. No Jeep for three days. Do the best he could. He was convinced it would make a difference. He apologized for how he looked, then noted he looked like a prince compared to his first video, then noted he probably should stop telling those jokes, then said he wanted people to get to know him.
The wins accumulated by his own naming. Sealing this up is going to make a big difference — calling this a win. The next section, where he had been careful to press insulation all the way into the corners and all the way to the top, fully insulated: calling that a win too. The bulging problem sent him looking for backing material, and the answer arrived out of nowhere — cardboard, a barn full of boxes, because Amazon is where he does ninety-five percent of his shopping. He laughed at how good the idea was. Then the inventory: what remained of the batting after two kitchen areas and this one, the R-32 gone, a roll of R-19 left, and the realization that the difference was only thickness, the same material. He was happy about that. He looked at the finished corner and asked the question directly — will it look nice, no; is it functional, absolutely — and said functional was what he cared about. Windows still wanted a treatment. That was all he could do in that area.
Then the thermostat again, with an up arrow beside the number. The temperature was rising, and it was rising after the work he had just shown. Three strips of reflective tape were all he had left, so he laid them and stopped, and turned the open question to the people watching — whether to seal the rest, whether the main Reflectix layer would carry it — knowing he could not act on any answer until tomorrow, when the roll arrived. He closed by naming something he had not named before: that there is a sense of pride and accomplishment that comes from doing this yourself, and that he had never experienced it before in his life. He described the future version of it — being out somewhere, coming back in, the temperature nice in here because it had been insulated by him, sitting with his cats. He said he thought that was probably a really good feeling. It was a nice feeling. Thanks for listening.