Dept.'s Inferno: How I Survived A Circle Of Hell, And There Weren't Even republicans There!

Disaster averted at the Dept. yesterday.

NEO--for those of you who don't remember, that's the ubercool way to refer to NorthEast Ohio--is having a HeatWave currently, and even though I don't mind temperatures in the upper registers, I loathe our tropical humidity. I have no idea why we get such drippy humidity here in this state, but we do. And it's like walking through a tub of baby's bathwater. Urgh.

So. Naturally, on Monday morning our central air decided to perform its Swan Song. I heard a horrid metallic screaming sound as I stood at the kitchen sink preparing to load my coffee cup. Horrified, I turned to Sam. "Do you hear that?" I said. "Please tell me that is not coming from the air conditioner." I opened the window closest to the unit, and it confirmed my worst fear. "Oh no! It Is!" I said in doomed tones to Sam, who sat placidly on the couch. Wild-eyed, I repeated myself to him in a panicked wail, adding, "Do you realize how HUMID it's going to be the next few days?"

Sam looked up from his Blackberry. "Yep. It's gonna be brutal," he said unhelpfully. "Wow."

I flung on some shoes (which did not match my outfit, sadly) and ran out to the AC unit. Helplessly, I stood by while it screamed. I started banging on it with my fist then stopped, horrified. What if it simply...QUIT?!

As I turned to go back into the house, the machine suddenly quieted. The fan still spinning, it seemed to be back to normal. I exhaled audibly and reported the good news to Sam, who was moved not at all. "I have to get ready to go to work," he said. "Good luck with all of that."

Good luck? What is that? By the time Rick got home from work, I noticed that the indoor thermometer had been climbing, but the AC had not stopped running. The temperature in the house was at 80 degrees. I put my hand in front of one of the registers and felt the air coming out: not very cool.

And then Rick tried to prepare me for the worst: "That AC is 20 years old, Nance. We had to jerry-rig it last year to keep it running, and it needs to be replaced. This may be it. We may have to shut it down." He went outside to look at the unit.

Sadly, those words were prophetic. When he came inside, he flipped the switch and then tried to break it to me gently. "Holy shit! You should have smelled that thing! The motor has burned up. It's fried! IT'S OVER! THIS IS IT! We have to open up and put on some fans and I'll see what I can do tomorrow."

--Readers, I was so brave. I really was. It is part of my New Philosophy, which is "Try to be brave and, failing that, swear less." Or something like that. It's very Zen.

Okay. Anyway, I spent an entire day of Beastly Humidity without air. The kittens were even lethargic. We stayed under the ceiling fans, drank lots of water, and read. (Well, I read; Piper and Marlowe napped, mostly.) Last night, Rick brought home a Temporary Fix--a replacement motor, and he tried to Lower My Expectation. "I have this motor they said might work. But it might not, because if the (insert name of techy AC part I forgot here) is fried, then forget it. But we can try it." He went outside with some tools and a shaky sense of optimism to see what he could do.

VICTORY! Temporary motor is in, working, and my house became cool again. It took quite some time, however; it was 84 degrees inside. As soon as the AC kicked on, Piper scampered to the register, felt the cool air, and capered around the dining room. The lower the temperature dropped, the more playful the kittens became.

Obviously, they have a Different Philosophy.