We were playing cards in the basement last night, classic rock spinning on the turntable, enjoying some gin (me) and ciders (her), when Tara made an observation.
“It’s not very cold down here,” she said.
I hadn’t noticed, but as soon as those words left her mouth, I realized she was right. The basement is always cool, if not downright chilly…even when it’s 93° outside, as it had been earlier. But last night it wasn’t.
Uh-oh.
So, Tara went upstairs to check things out. “There’s air blowing out of the vents, but it’s warm!” she announced.
Oh, no.
She then stepped into the backyard and reported that, even though the thermostat was on and running, the fan blades on our central A/C unit were not turning.
Well, shit.
Talk about a buzzkill. Fortunately, the A/C had been running most of the day before conking out, so the house wasn’t too warm. But it also wasn’t getting any cooler. We opened all the windows, but it made for an uncomfortable night. And with the temperature forecast to flirt with 100° the next few days, things were looking pretty grim.
But much like massage parlors of ill repute, this story has a happy ending. Tara found an HVAC company that offered 24/7 service and gave them a call this morning. They had a tech available but warned us the service rate would be higher for emergency calls versus waiting until Monday morning. Well, it was only $50 an hour higher, which seemed perfectly reasonable to us. And it saved us the trouble of taking time off from work. Two hours later, we again had cool air flowing through the vents. The culprit was a faulty capacitor. Great Scott! Those things are always causing trouble.
Luckily, they’re cheap. The part cost $25, and even with the higher after-hours labor charge, our bill was less than $200. Hallelujah!
I’ve been banished to the basement because Christmas Light Kelly is over and she and Tara are canning jalapeno jelly in the kitchen. I’m not even complaining. It is once again nice and cool down here, and I can catch up on blogging and watch Top Secret UFO Projects: Declassified, my current obsession, on Netflix. I have much to say about aliens and government coverups, but that’s a future post.
It had already been an interesting day. I rarely get caught in the rain, but five minutes into a walk around the neighborhood Saturday afternoon, thunder began rumbling. It was so unexpected, I assumed at first it was a passing jet. Then suddenly it was raining, and lightning was flashing, and I had to dash home. The sky sure was pretty, though.
After the storm passed I resumed my walk. I decided to hike up the forested hillside overlooking our neighborhood, and was fortunate enough to stumble upon three bucks. Not dollar bills…deer.
I was a little nervous about approaching. I mean, look at those antlers! They could cause serious bodily harm. But I proceeded cautiously and got within a few feet of this particularly velvety fella. He watched me nervously for a few minutes, and finally trotted off when a jogger came along the trail.
We get deer in our backyard all the time, so seeing them isn’t exactly a novelty, but it’s a little rarer to come across a trio of full-grown bucks.
Between the weather and the A/C going on the fritz, we didn’t get out kayaking like we’d planned. But we did buy a new refrigerator—again, future entry—and grilled ribeye steaks, so the weekend can hardly be called a bust.
Mark My Words 
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