Wilder by Far

A look at life with the Wilder family. Updated most weekends and some vacation days. You can contact me at movingnorth@gmail.com..

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Wednesday, July 18, 2007

"Oh, he's dead. You killed him when you left the door open with the air conditioning on." - George Bluth, Arrested Development

 

Houston. Looks hot, doesn’t it? Did you know that dogs, steel, and The Mrs. melt without Air Conditioning here?

I’ve been asked (on more than one occasion) on why I write. The Mrs. usually phrases this with the “instead of _____” ending, where the blank could be replaced with “talking to me,” “taking out trash” or even “making sure the children don’t get into a machete fight.” Since she discovered Myspace, well, let’s just say The Mrs. doesn’t ask that any more. Why do I write? On most nights, it’s like, well, having a baby (I speak with all the authority of a male on that one). It may be painful, it may suck, but in the end, you always come up with the instinctual need to push it out and have a tumbler of whiskey Pinot Noir.

Oh, sorry, did you miss me? I had to run and check on Pugsley. It seems that Pugsley just chewed the last of the slats from his crib out, and I had to throw in some raw birch for him to gnaw on. You have to do it in the dark, so he doesn’t spring at you in a starving rage. Travelling across his floor is like travelling across that Southern California French field in that WWII movie I watched when I was kid where they had to traverse a mine field, using a bayonet to find them. I stepped on Elmo®. I must admit, Elmos© don’t blow up, but I also must admit I enjoyed stepping on Elmo’s™ face. Is that wrong?

Anyhow, we’ve reached summer in Houston. By summer, I mean “exactly like December” in Houston, except muggier. Our house (having been built back when sweet, sweet oil was the equivalent of $140.32/barrel (that’s €5.00/kL)) has the virtue of being built with two air conditioners to save energy. This air conditioning set up, meant for a much larger house, is there. Thankfully.

One of the air conditioners broke. The Mrs. says it made an awful noise before it took a big dirt nap. Despite much coaxing, I could not get The Mrs. to imitate the sound it made before it went to the big Thermodynamics Graveyard. I went “rrrr, rrr”. The Mrs. said, “No.” I went, “crrrrrrrsh,” and again The Mrs. said, “No.” Finally, I went, “grrrrr – chh – grrrr – chhh,” and The Mrs. said, “That’s it.”

Okay, the bearing on the condenser motor was shot.

Again, thankfully the air conditioning still functioned on the side of the house where people sleep. So, on one side of the house it’s as hot as Sharon Stone, 1983. On the other side, it’s as hot as Sharon Stone, 2013. Yeah, it’s cold on the 2013 side. We drug out a box fan, and used it to push air to the 1983 side. The result: lukewarm Wilders, and waaaay too much Sharon Stone.

When we bought Casa Wilder South, the realtor™ said, “Let’s write a home warranty into the offer.” I think the realtors© get a commission for that, or at least mousepads. We did. At closing, I asked (greedy little Wilder that I am) if we could get the money they’d agreed to pony up for the warranty in cash. No dice. So, a home warranty we have.

I called up the company, and, after verifying that I had a policy, some 18 year old in El Secundo, California said that the AC was covered. They’d get someone right on that.

The company charged with carrying out the warranty came out and said, “bearing on the condenser motor is shot.”

The Mrs. said, “I know it doesn’t work. I didn’t need you to drive here and tell me it doesn’t work. I need you to fix the damn thing. UGH, THE MRS. WANT COLD.¹”

Am I good, or what? Can you judge a bearing failure through imitating noises to your wife?

Anyhow, another week goes by. The motor is on (drumroll, please) order. I’m (at this point) just hoping the air conditioner motor is not made from strontium 90 and Loch Ness Monster fur, and on back order until Sharon Stone has enough surgery that she’s hot again.

Of course, we’re hot.

Another week goes by, in which the kitchen is 132°F (453,349°C) and the bedroom is near -432°F.

Oh, did I mention that the electric meter to the house went out (due to lightning strike) at the same time the AC went down? No? Well, my guess is that the electric company will make a weasel-like argument that I would have paid that much to cool my house, anyway, so, in some sense, I owe them the money as if all of my appliances were working.

Did I mention that I reported the electric meter was out?

Does Pugsley need more wood to eat?

¹Article 3, Section 8 of the Wilder Marital Agreements: “The Mrs. shall never, ever, ever, ever live in Texas unless she has unlimited access and complete control of sweet, sweet air conditioning and utter control of the thermostat.”
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8 Comments:

Blogger BIKE NUT 2 said...

It's been hot here on occasion but hot to me is 90 degrees. I can't imagine living there. I did live in Lost Wages for 6 months in the winter years ago and it was almost to warm then. You're temps beat both of these. What about that thought about going back to Alaska?

4:43 AM  
Blogger Uncle Crappy said...

A friend of mine once wrote the following haiku after trying to live through a south Florida summer without the benefit of AC:

Ninety. Eight a.m.
Don’t need air conditioning?
I must be stupid.

12:43 PM  
Blogger Kevin Foward said...

I have been in Mesa, Arizona this summer and the average temp. during the day is about 110 degrees...i think i would shoot myself if our AC went out for more than a couple days. And your George Bluth quote reminded me of my dad Dad who is quite the energy nozi. He spikes it up to around 83 degrees most of the time. "No cold air for you!"

11:14 AM  
Blogger The Therapist! said...

For the sake of all, I sure hope you get that ll fixed up!

3:52 AM  
Anonymous The Mrs. said...

Usually, I proof your posts. I did not do so with this one because you were writing it at 3am and I like sleep almost as much as I like air conditioning, but this one did catch my eye:

"We drug out a box fan..."

Drug? Really? C'mon. C'MON!

UGH! The Mrs. want better grammar!

2:02 PM  
Blogger The Therapist! said...

You heard the lady.

5:35 PM  
Blogger John said...

bike nut 2,
Oh, gosh we love the idea. Love, love the idea of moving back north. Today? Not so real. Drat. If you buy 22,000 copies of The Mrs. book, we'll be back there in a heart-beat, though.

uncle crappy,
I didn't stop laughing for three minutes when I read that. That is the reason for haikus.

kevin,
Yup. Keep in mind, in Mesa, there is no humidity. 83 with no humidity is like 33 here in Houston. They'd kill you for it, man.

therapist!,
(hmmm, that font looks familiar)
Not yet. (sweat)

The Mrs.,
You're right, dear.

therapist!,
TIFFANY!!!!!

8:35 PM  
Blogger asamerkley12 said...

I don't like riding a motorcycle without my complete protection because I already experienced riding before without any protection early in the morning, oh its very windy which my skin really feel the cold that sucks into my bone. Alair conditioning that is too much though natural.
heating and air conditioning san antonio

10:42 PM  

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