Sweaty Susan here. (Not really sweaty, but I could be if I were upstairs.)
The guys came out and checked our AC Wednesday afternoon. Nice guys. Really! But you’d think as nice as they were, they’d have better news.
After working in the afternoon heat for a while, they brought the bad news. “New compressor, please.”
And to make matters worse, the next day we found out we’d have to wait a week to get it or pay extra for shipping. I told G-Man about the extra charge and he asked, “Where’s it being shipped from?”
(I never ask the right questions.) “IDK. I’ll find out.” So I called and found it wasn’t so very far away.
G-Man decided to pick it up himself and save a couple of $$.
What I didn’t consider was how he’d get the unwieldy thing out of the truck when he got home.
We have a family joke. G-Man built a pair of furniture dollies many years ago, and when there was anything to move he’d say, “Boys (or Susan) get the furniture dollies.”
But by the time the kids were helping, the wheels didn’t work right and it was easier not to use them. Anytime G-Man said, “Get the furniture dollies,” the kids groaned and rolled their eyes.
But if G-Man needed help carrying something, the boys would say, “Why don’t you just use the furniture dollies?”
So to get the compressor off the truck without messing up vents or fins or whatever a compressor unit has, G-Man built a ramp and got the furniture dollies (new and improved).
He got the expensive little whatchamacallit off the truck by himself without a bit of a problem.
The guys are supposed to be back today to install it. Fingers crossed they’ll make it. 🙂
So (hopefully) by tonight we’ll be back upstairs in our real bed, and I won’t be sweaty anymore. Unless I want to. 😉