Have you noticed that when things go wrong in our lives – appliances die, car repairs, leaking roofs, flooding in the basement, that those incidents happen in clumps? Typically in threes, but sometimes more. It’s as if the world of inanimate objects is ganging up on us humans, defying us to show strength, poise, and dignity in the face of adversity.
We had a week like that this past week. Things we’d planned on, and things we didn’t. I may have mentioned this, but we’d arranged to have a person come in to wallpaper for us. One wall. I’d tried to match the paint on the other walls, and that didn’t work out. It would be a beautiful accent wall. Just for that purpose, I ordered an extra roll of wallpaper. We’d have plenty – not a problem. As I mentioned, the paint didn’t match, so one accent wall became two. Not a problem – we’ve got three rolls of wallpaper – way more than enough. Except, the wallpaper hanger was not quite of the caliber I’d hoped. He ran short by one, waist-high strip. And a thin strip behind the door that he either didn’t see or ignored and hoped we wouldn’t notice. So, the wallpapering adventure that I’d cleverly got out of, won’t allude me completely because I had to order another roll, which came in three days later. I’ll have to do that myself, so, all done but not quite.
We’d been waiting since Thanksgiving to have our old central air conditioning unit replaced. Ours was original to the condo, circa 1980’s, and surprisingly, the warrantee had run out along with its ability to cool anything, and the manufacturer refused to replace it gratis. I didn’t realize quite how bad it was until I was chatting with our neighbors, and they mentioned that “it’s been sounding pretty pathetic for a while now.” So, all set now for replacement. I’d gone to the basement to clean out and rearrange the spaces they’d need to run lines and do whatever else they do. Why do we do that – put stuff near the circuit breaker board so it’s hard to get at? Stack boxes of things we don’t even recognize right under the critical places like drains and cable wiring. Anyway, I cleared out as best I could and took a load to the dump. That immediately solicited concern from Her Ladyship and the Princess. “What did you throw out?” When I plan a dump run, they’re both sure I’ll throwing out their treasures. Considering that Her Ladyship hasn’t been into a basement for the last three houses, let alone look through things, but still . . . . . the concern is there that some priceless heirloom, some valuable family trinkets will be gone. Anyhow,
In come the specialists for a job that will be, as they estimated, about a day, possibly a day and half. Starting Monday, I expect to pay the final bill and see them off by lunch time on Tuesday. Not so much. We hear clattering and banging in the basement for the better part of two days. At strategic points, they show me what they’ve done. My father, an engineer, would hover over projects and the people doing them, which I assumed came from his understanding of them. I have no such knowledge base, so I tend to ignore the progress unless a question comes up. I’m rather like that great Jerry Seinfeld routine. He’s on a plane when the pilot comes on and tells the passengers “what we’re going to do.” His response? “Fine. Just get me to where it says on the ticket.” As long as the new system is working, I’m happy. End of story.
But no. They can’t get the new system working with the existing thermostat. Up and down the cellar stairs they come. A yell up, and a yell down. Nope. Nothing yet. By quitting time on the second day, still not coming on. Something electrical. That means the electrician will have to come and take a look. He’ll do that the next day, or as I call it, Day Three. At least the heat’s back on, so we won’t have frozen extremities by morning.
Air conditioning – day 3. The electrician comes in, pulls out the wiring and sees immediately the problem. The a/c lines were never attached to the thermostat – only the heating was. He and his assistant, a boyish looking young man I’d judge to be a high school freshman, proceed to snake a new wire into the wall and down to presumably whatever it connects to. Great. Now we’re in business, and ready for that first heat spell. Except, wait. The electrician, in hooking up all the “electrics”, as the British would say, informed me that there’s a problem – something is leaking in the furnace, which he’s thoughtfully checked over. They have the part in stock, and it’s covered under warranty. They can have it here by Day Four. Did I mention that the furnace is only three years old? Shouldn’t replacing the furnace have eliminated any such anguish and worry? Apparently not. Good news and bad news. The leaking part is covered by the furnace’s manufacturer warranty. The labor, however, isn’t. It’s just over three years, so I’ll have to pay for that. A modest amount, so I’ll pay the bill, have a glass or two of wine, and put it all behind me. Another team came this afternoon to replace the leaking . . . . . . whatever. Now we’re all set. Oh, wait. He did mention that there’s some rust on the burners, so they should be replaced before next heating season – maybe late summer or early fall. About the time we planned to replace the chimney and firebox for the fireplace. Did I mention that they’ve rusted out and are unsafe to use? And I really should get a dehumidifier for the basement to run during the warm, moist summer months. OK. I can do that too.
In the midst of all this, and just to add a little bit more excitement to the week, the garage door opener developed a curious habit of going about halfway up, then it would mysteriously release and the door would come crashing down. Fortunately, when discovering this quirk, neither the car nor I was under it. So, I called a garage door repair place not far from here. The man told me it was probably a spring, easy to fix, and he’d be over later afternoon. I suspect that you can see where this is going.
It turned out to be not a broken spring. It was that central bar thingy that connects with the motor. I’m trying not to be too technical here so my readers can keep up. We had two options to correct the problem. Three actually, if you count doing nothing and raising the door by hand any time I wanted to go out. Option 1 – they could order the bar thingy, which may or may not be impossible to find as it’s twenty years old, and even if they could find it, would take weeks to get. Option 2 – they could replace the motor and the bar thingy with new stuff. They’d have that in stock, so relief was just days away and just a few dollars more. Another few shovelfuls of cash out the door. (Actually, no, but the credit cards are smoking.)
At the moment, all systems are “go”, although I’m not holding my breath that it will continue that way. So, the wallpaper is in. I’ve also filled and spackled where the former air conditioning controls were. Of course, that paint too is long gone, so will most likely have to match it as best I can, painting one long wall in hopes that nobody notices it’s slightly different. Or, I could paint the whole room, but it connects to two halls, so they’ll all have to be repainted too. Perhaps an accent wall would be nice – maybe a complimentary wallpaper. OK. I’m thinking . . . . . . . forget I said that. Where’s my bottle of wine?
I'm Thinking...No! 