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Bundling up

Believe it or not, I am freezing. I am sitting in my house with a sweatshirt on because it is so freakin’ cold.

In Texas. In the middle of July.

Why? you ask.

Let me tell you a little tale…

Sunday afternoon, my better-than-I-could-have -ever-dreamed-for husband was mowing the yard. Oh, yes. It is July and about a zillion degrees outside. But he’s mowing. While mowing around our A/C units, he accidentally pulls a wire loose. No problem, he just sticks it back in. Looks good.

Back inside, it starts to get warm. Really warm. Then we notice that the thermostat downstairs is completely blank. Nada. Nothin’. Zilch. Zero. No air.

Getting warmer. And warmer.

It’s actually not unbearable, though. We closed all the blinds and turned the fans on high. It’s definitely warm, but we’re OK.

Except at night. It was really too hot to sleep, even with the fans on. So about midnight, Michael and I go upstairs, pull out the sleeper sofa in the playroom, and finally drift off into air conditioned slumber.

Monday morning, I call the A/C company who installed the units when the house was built, and they make an appointment to come out. The next day. In the afternoon.

Getting warmer, but still bearable. We spend a lot of time upstairs, where the air is thankfully still working. Michael and I sleep in Meghan’s queen size bed that night.

Tuesday: have Bible study in the morning, so thankfully we were able to get out of our increasingly warmer home. The repairman comes about 1:30 – funny man with a mullet – looks at the unit, looks up in the attic, then comes down and tells me words that make my very warm blood run cold:

“Yep, it’s fried.”

To which I replied, “Define ‘fried’.”

Visions of dollar signs are dancing in my head.

As it turns out, when Michael stuck the wires back together, he blew out the transformer. Thank God that a transformer is only in the $200 range instead of the $800 range, like I was envisioning upon hearing the word “fried.”

So he fixes it and instructs me to crank the air down to about 70 degrees (when the thermostat came back on, it read 83) since we had been without air for two days and needed to get the humidity out of our house. We could turn it back up when we went to bed, he said.

So we did, and it was blessedly cool. Aaaahhh. Then it was chilly. Really chilly.

Twenty-eight hours later, we are freezing. In Texas. In the middle of July. Our heat actually kicked on last night because it was so freakin’ cold. If we get through this week without getting sick because of the extreme temperature changes, it will be the greatest miracle since Cana.

I’m taking this as a good sign that our house is well-insulated.

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