and now we know: the screaming noise, when emanating in a sort of tortured-puppy shriek from the intestines of the espresso bulkhead, most likely indicates an inordinate buildup of pressure. the boiler pressure gauge, with its needle quavering well beyond the extreme maximum reading, is a certain confirmation. and the hiss, a gradually building vapor of stealthy foreboding, adds the final warning gong: dive in a panic for cover, yank the plug and scoop up all small offspring in midair. these die cast innards may be about to sunder their threads and welds.
and so we did, just as the atmosphere became as charged as a damp basement during a bombing raid. it occurs to this blog that the isomac manual, translated so faithfully from the italian, may have warned us about this — it’s hard to tell! — when it posited that certain machine parts “can procure scalds,” and that the manufacturer bears no fault “for damage to people and object which is due to an improper or wrong way.”
in any case, it’s a good thing we hadn’t been steaming milk. the jet stream might have been enough to make surfactants out of stainless steel.
a new pressurestat being decidedly in order from the place with the stuff from the guy, we figured it might also be time to, you know, replace the isomac’s water tank. four years it’s been cooking:
annnnnnd, that’s how we stall here at CI, while laboring over real content. shucks, let’s call it “permanently-marginalize-the-professional-reader-base-via-petty-home-junkie-foible-blogging week!” ah, but massive, plopping chunks of research-driven, quasi-revelatory breakthroughs are in the final pangs of labor and delivery. you may or may not be scintillated. trust this blog.