Africa Hot

Last week, the part of the air conditioner that sits outside the house sounded odd. I told Steve about the noise, and he made an appointment to have a technician inspect the unit. The appointment was for Wednesday morning at 8am. At 8:15am, with no technician in sight, we called the company. They claimed the tech was running a little late. At 9am, we call the company again, and they said that the tech had a blow-out on I-4, at the Maitland exit, and had to return to the office for a spare because their policy is that their employees do not travel in company vehicles without usable spare tires.

Does all of that sound like a load of crap? It did to us. So, we told them to forget it. I wasn't home to take the call, but later in the morning, Sean (the air conditioning technician) left a message on our machine asking us to call him back, that it was very important.

We did not return Sean's call. My instinct tells me that Sean had a late night, that he is regularly late to appointments and is generally unreliable, and that because his tardiness caused his company business, he was in hot water. That is no concern of mine, and I have no intention of involving myself in that guy's life. Sorry Sean, get your head out of your ass, and you'll be a raging success.

Moving on.

The air conditioner when completely kaput later that day.

Florida.

June.

94 degrees in the shade.

Wonderful.

I called another company and got an appointment for Friday morning. I told them what happened with the other company, and that if I sniffed any bullsh*t, I'd tell them to take a leap the same way I'd told the other company.

The service man showed at 8am on the dot. 

Good.

His diagnosis was that we needed a new motor, and that it would cost a cool $512. We told him we'd think about it, and sent him on his way. 

Steve looked the motor up online, and the part cost $109. $400 in labor? I don't think so. Steve said that he was sure he could do it himself, only problem was that the store that sold the part locally was M-F, 8-5. 

Oh boy. We'd already been without air since Wednesday afternoon, now we'd have to wait until Monday? I was determined to tough it out, but I wasn't 100% sure that I was up to it. That first night was horrible. It was hot, hot, hot! Neither one of us could get comfortable, sweaty as all get out, sticking to our pillows. It sucked.

We were lucky to have a free-standing fan on hand, so we put that to use, and things weren't half bad. I looked like a mental patient, permanently flushed, permanently greasy face and frizzy hair sticking out in all directions. However, the experience did offer a surprising slice of nostalgia. 

Except for when company was visiting, my mom never, ever ran the air in our house when I was growing up. We had fans going in every room, all the time. We played in the pool, read, did anything that didn't add heat to the house. We lived on salads and iced tea (avoiding heating the house via the kitchen). Most things about my childhood sucked, but the absence of air conditioning returned me to a time when I had no worries, and I felt safe. I was completely caught off guard to feel at ease while standing directly in front of a fan inside a house that registered over 90 degrees. I also hadn't realized how stressed out I've been.

Indeed, Steve repaired the air conditioner, we are "back to normal", and I am grateful to have been vividly reminded of a time in my life that was truly simple.