Glad it is above freezing outside.
Yesterday morning, in confusion as to the source of the cold temperatures in the house, I bundled up in fleece, wool and the purple down jacket, thinking it was my messed up internal thermometer again, and that a little coffee would warm things right up. An hour later, I finally looked at the thermostat that said 62 degrees. Then double checked on the thermostat upstairs. Same.
Revelation! It's not me that's f****d up, it's the FURNACE. Not the internal furnace, but the external one. And then I realized the furnace fan had been running nonstop, but the burner never kicked on to heat the water that heats the pipes that heats the house (that Jack built).
Furnace man worked all morning, taking apart almost everything, and could not find the problem. At 12 PM, he says he needs to go find a part, drives off probably to have lunch, and comes back half an hour later with no part. He says he has to wait until Monday to find a part. Meanwhile we are still cold. We watch him put it all back together and leave us without a working furnace. At least before, the fan worked. Now, nothing.
Jim fiddles with the switches for a minute and overrides something in the exhaust system. Then the fan works. He opens the transformer box with more switches, peers in for a couple seconds, says, "That looks baked," and then sticks a screwdriver in to close a lever that should close by itself. The burner kicks on. He limps to the work bench and gets a wood shim to keep the lever closed and the burner on. We heat the house for half an hour, get it back up above 70 degrees, and remove the shim to turn off the furnace.
This morning, though it's Sunday, I might call another furnace man. It's 66 degrees inside. Cold for writing or fine finger movement. Who would leave someone without heat? How dare he abandon us!
Yesterday morning, in confusion as to the source of the cold temperatures in the house, I bundled up in fleece, wool and the purple down jacket, thinking it was my messed up internal thermometer again, and that a little coffee would warm things right up. An hour later, I finally looked at the thermostat that said 62 degrees. Then double checked on the thermostat upstairs. Same.
Revelation! It's not me that's f****d up, it's the FURNACE. Not the internal furnace, but the external one. And then I realized the furnace fan had been running nonstop, but the burner never kicked on to heat the water that heats the pipes that heats the house (that Jack built).
Jim fiddles with the switches for a minute and overrides something in the exhaust system. Then the fan works. He opens the transformer box with more switches, peers in for a couple seconds, says, "That looks baked," and then sticks a screwdriver in to close a lever that should close by itself. The burner kicks on. He limps to the work bench and gets a wood shim to keep the lever closed and the burner on. We heat the house for half an hour, get it back up above 70 degrees, and remove the shim to turn off the furnace.
This morning, though it's Sunday, I might call another furnace man. It's 66 degrees inside. Cold for writing or fine finger movement. Who would leave someone without heat? How dare he abandon us!
EERIE COINCIDENCE OR SYNCHRONICITY?
ReplyDeleteOur furnace guy took one look at our system, did some token fiddling around, and announced our system was f***ed and would be back in the morning with a new boiler, new on demand water heater and a bill for $13,000. Of course this was in May, when heat was optional. Wonder how the cold feels to a bionic joint...
Bitter, in answer to how the cold feels to a bionic joint.
ReplyDeleteAnd I understand you now have a new refrigerator to go with your new furnace. Did the jeans in the freezer compartment cause the failure of the fridge?