If you’ve been watching the news (instead of Buffy the Vampire Slayer re-runs like this household), you’ll have heard that much of the Midwest has been issued a heat advisory for the rest of this week. Today temperatures could reach 98 degrees where I live. Which is an extremely big deal.
Now I realize that those of you in Arizona or Nevada are surely calling us Midwesterners wimps right about now. You’re used to temperatures well above 100 degrees. However, you need to consider that we have this little thing called humidity that not only drains people of their will to live but also increases the heat index about a million fold. So that puts our adjusted temperature somewhere about ten degrees cooler than the surface of the sun.
Roughly. Math has never been my strong suite.
Weather forecasters have been issuing warnings and telling the public what they should do to keep cool if they don’t have any air conditioning. I have not been paying much attention because I have air conditioning. Pretty, pretty air conditioning.
Ironically, last night my pretty, pretty air conditioner broke.
At 4:00 a.m. my husband and I went to investigate why the upstairs bedrooms were close to 90 degrees and why there were semi-naked children sweating on our floor in front of the oscillating fan.
We discovered that the pretty, pretty air conditioner was extremely hot to the touch (a fever apparently) and was unable to do more than give the occasional whimper. (Oddly, it felt very much like the scene in Old Yeller when the dog was hurt by the wild pigs trying to save Travis’ life. Only I was not called upon to sew up the pretty, pretty air conditioner’s entrails with a hair from the tail of a mule. Which is pretty much the only silver lining in my universe right now.)
Considering that there are no doubt hundreds of air conditioners failing mechanically in the face of all this extreme heat, waits for service calls can take days. Fortunately, I am married to a plumber.
In the plumbing world people take care of each other. General plumbers, like my husband, will bump up the cooling/refrigeration guys to the front of the line when the weather freezes and pipes burst. Conversely, those same cooling/refrigeration guys are coming out to our house today during the worst heat wave in the last decade to take care of my pretty, pretty air conditioner. (The rare exception to all this It’s-A-Small-World-Plumbing-Philanthropy are the sceptic tank guys who pretty much just follow the money. But they have to deal with poop all day so I figure it’s allowed.)
So basically, there are two morals to this story. First, never take your pretty, pretty air conditioner for granted. Second, marry a plumber.