Murphy’s Law of the Traveling Husband states that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong the minute the wheels go up on the airplane.”
Case and point. Dan is traveling. He’s been home, other than a few short trips, since the beginning of the year, and it’s been relatively uneventful around here.
He left on Monday for a four-day trip to Houston. Last night, the AC went out in our house.
I immediately went into my default mode and texted my sister-in-law, who is the Listener of All Things Crabby. Plus my brother-in-law is home this week and could come over to look at it. He didn’t see anything (which is always nerve-wracking for me, as I would rather that someone look at it and tell me that the “thing that should do the thing isn’t doing the thing and that’s why it’s not working.”)
Here’s how my mind works. I had left the garage door open. I assumed that the AC wasn’t working because the garage door was open and it was tired of working so hard. I closed the garage door and figured that once the AC had a chance to rest, it would work again.
After letting the AC rest for a while, I turned it back on…and was genuinely shocked when it didn’t start working again. Ungrateful appliance.
I called an HVAC company this morning, and the lady told me that they would “fit me in”, which meant that I couldn’t have an actual arrival time–or even an arrival window. I canceled my life for the day (such as it is) and decided that if I was going to be sweaty anyway, I would get some cleaning done.
I cleaned the kitchen and tackled the refrigerator. After I threw out all of the “science experiments” lurking in the back, we all said a prayer of thanks that we haven’t somehow contracted botulism or something.
Mr. AC Man arrived about 1:20, and immediately started asking me the hard questions.
- Have you changed the filter lately? (It has a filter? Who knew?)
- Where is your pressure tank?
- When was it last serviced?
- Do you know how to turn it on? (To be fair, the poor guy was probably wondering how I manage to get dressed in the morning by this point).
I stood there blinking at him like an owl.
He finally said (and I quote) “Why don’t you just show me all of the things that you don’t know how to work.”
NOW YOU’RE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE!
I opened the door at the bottom of the stairs where all of the mysterious things live and he found what he was looking for.
After replacing a part that was the approximate size and shape of a pop can (and cost the equivalent of two weeks worth of groceries), and cleaning the entire thing (he tried to explain to me how to do it and then looked around and said “Do you have a hose?” I think he was genuinely wondering if I needed supervision), the nice man charged me a bunch of money and went on his merry way.
I think I handled the whole thing beautifully. Dan is traveling again next month–maybe the roof will slide off of the house and land on the car or something and I’ll get to use my new-found “crisis management skills” again.