Can’t Take the Heat

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This is one hot weekend!

 

Is this Fourth of July weekend? Or is it next weekend?  With Fourth of July falling on a Wednesday this year, it’s hard to tell.  Last night I heard quite a few fireworks going off, but we could have a repeat of that next weekend.

It’s a mystery that may go forever unsolved.

But whether this is Fourth of July weekend or not, one thing is certain…it’s hot as hell outside.

And my air conditioner stopped working.

It didn’t go on the fritz—working a little bit here or a little bit there. It didn’t just partially stop cooling.  It went dead.

I’d been half-expecting it. The air conditioning unit and furnace in my home are on borrowed time.  They’ve way outlasted their official life spans, but thus far I’d had no problems with either one.  So it wasn’t a big surprise…but did it have to be on one of the hottest June days or record?

This seemed like a disaster in the making. My wallet was already crying, thinking of tales of a new air conditioner and potentially a new furnace to boot.  That was if I could even get anyone to come out on what may or may not have been the Saturday of Fourth of July weekend.

Fortunately, my parents know a guy. He runs his own business, and has installed air conditioners and furnaces for several members in my family.  He was at my place in a matter in a few hot, sweaty hours.

He checked the furnace. He checked the thermostat.  He checked the fuse box.  He checked the machine.  He didn’t say anything, just looked around while I hovered over him in suspense.

“Let me get some tools from my truck, see what is going on,” he said.

That didn’t seem good.

While he worked, I was trying to think which friends I could hit up to stay with for the evening, as Sunday was supposed to be another record breaker. I pulled up the weather app on my phone, and it was the first time I’d ever seen the description, “air quality will be poor for certain sensitive persons.”

That did not sound good. That sounded like a euphemism for “hot as hell” if I ever heard one.

Then suddenly I heard the sweetest sound I could ever imagine. Sweeter than a lullaby.  It was the sound of my air conditioner whirring to life.

Turns out it was a simple and cheap fix (at least for now, as the thing isn’t getting any younger) and the man had the replacement part in his truck.

I paid him gratefully, and gave him a Pepsi for the road. I cranked up the air and spent a peaceful night instead of a miserable one.  And I was grateful for the air conditioner, which will get me through the longest and hottest of these dog days of summer.

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