In a column several months ago, a certain self-satisfied father let his Scotch nature get the better of him while complaining about his children’s wasteful energy habits whenever they returned home (http://www.workingwaterfront.com/articles/Empty-Nesting/15108/). We must learn to be careful of whom we have become.

With their children now all off launching their lives into the gales of the current economic headwinds, this particular homeowner and his wife closed off the empty upstairs bedrooms to save on heat. This was an entirely sensible, if delusional concept, especially after a bit of Arctic nastiness reminded them of their exact latitude on the continent.

For most of the past two months, a large wobble in the Arctic jet provided them and their neighbors with a refresher course in geography and helped recall the value of 19th century attitudes. However, with three cords of dried hardwood stacked in the basement to feed their handsome new living room woodstove and a small propane space heater for their kitchen when they were cooking and eating, they felt well on their way to a post heating-oil life in Maine.

Then came February after an intensely cold January, which resulted in frozen pipes in two of the upstairs bedroom the thrifty homeowners had closed off to save money for a possible midwinter getaway to somewhere the sun shines.

One thing Maine contractors like to point out about frozen pipes is that they cause no damage when they freeze. But then they enjoy providing you with a quick refresher course in high school physics: ice expands as it melts. And, p.s., it exerts a great deal of force as it expands.

The homeowners were reminded of this essential fact when an early morning geyser on a slightly warm day caused the kitchen ceiling to collapse under the weight of a slurry of diluted antifreeze baseboard water, which poured over a quarter of century of inter-floor mouse droppings, then soaked into long strips of sodden pink insulation and hung like dirty underwear from the ceiling.

This operatic event occurred as the frantic wife was trying to figure out which valve in the basement would turn the torrent off. Actually, she got the main water valve turned off, while on the phone with the plumber, just not the valve controlling the closed loop through the furnace, so the entire baseboard system successfully emptied before the flood abated and the plumber arrived.

Thankfully the frugal husband was out of town for the weekend. He had hoped being useless in absentia might make him less guilty than standing around as a useless presence during the crisis. But his wife had taken care to email him pictures of her circumstances. Who says smart phones cannot convey emotion? The message did not even need emoticons for the husband to catch its essential temperature. He considered waiting for the spring thaw before returning home, but did not have the nerve to continue on his journey.

When the homeowner slunk back to the hearth, the family’s well educated plumber gave him another lesson in high school physics. If the temperature in your house is, say, 68 degrees and it is zero outside, there will be a gradient between the 68 and zero degree readings where the temperature will cross the 32-degree threshold. This spot is as likely to be a few inches inside of the wall as the outside.

Hmmm”¦gradients yes, he was starting to remember them. Unlike high school, however, there are not make-up exams when you fail the physics test. All education is expensive; re-education is especially dear.

Because Maine has been having, as the insurance man solemnly noted when he came to inspect the damage, an old-fashioned winter, there had been many frozen pipe claims to evaluate. The homeowners had, of course, already abandoned their kitchen, and removed all its furniture and utensils to the living room. Earlier in the winter, the homeowner had helpfully suggested that he and his wife sign up for a weekend camping trip to one of the new Maine Huts and Trails cabins, but now they could camp at home and not even drive to the woods!

Thankfully, a quickly dispatched crew of insulators, sheet rockers, mudders and tapers had tracked through most of the downstairs to reassemble the kitchen ceiling during the first week after the disaster. An exceptionally thoughtful contractor had pulled crews off other jobs to reinforce the fraying marital bonds. Needless to say, the husband, a writer, was furiously occupied in his small office across the way and had nearly exhausted himself, staying out of the way. This can be very time consuming.

After a hopeful beginning, the winter campers had to wait for the adjuster to approve the painting and carpeting estimates. After a week’s delay, the painter arrived and the homeowner was delegated the task of bonding with the couple’s dog by carrying him back and forth across the narrow unpainted portions of the hallway during the week that the paint on the floors was drying. The dog weighs 70 pounds and the homeowner dreamt of rationing the dog’s meals while the paint dried, but realized he had offered enough suggestions for the time being.

Now in their third week of camping, the homeowner’s humor is a bit frayed.

When the temperature recently approached 40 degrees under sunny skies, there had been a hint of a southerly zephyr in the wispy air, which they enjoyed for 12 hours, before listening to the forecast, which predicted the arrival of a third winter storm during the weekend.

After the second storm, the snowplow guy had not been able to move the head-high pile of snow from in front of the house and had to return with a front-end loader several days later. The painter could not approach the house without having to strap on snowshoes, which further delayed the project, but increased the length of the camping experience. The deep snows everywhere across Maine have also delayed the re-appearance of the insurance adjuster, who must have taken the opportunity for that vacation in Florida he had long been planning.

But wait, this just in! A new snowstorm will hit this week, further delaying everything.

The amount of fossil fuel our hapless homeowners are now burning to catch up to the rest of red-blooded Americans is positively admirable. And they swear they will never try to save energy again in their lives.

Philip Conkling is president and founder of the Island Institute.