Tag Archives: air conditioning

Booklisti, and a reading report

First of all, business. Feel free to check out the new listing I have on Booklisti. They asked me to make a list books of my own, and one of books that I wanted to recommend, for any reason. A fascinating look into my fascinating mind. For which the world, of course, has been eagerly waiting. Feel free to share it with seekers after truth and beauty.

Updating my personal situation, I’m delighted to report that my air conditioning is operative again – at last. (Just in time for a heat wave.) I haven’t checked precisely, but I think I was without it for about a month. Roughing it. Living as my ancestors did – or as I did when I was a kid, to tell the truth. I’m old enough to remember when air conditioning was still a luxury in northern states.

The problem, as I’ve explained, was that my home warranty company (which shall remain nameless) preferred to go the cheap-but-lengthy route of repair over replacement. I suppose there must be some way to register a complaint on their webside, but if there is, it’s pretty carefully concealed from the customers.

I’ve tackled another long book, which will delay my next review. I can give updates as I go, though. I’m reading The Wife, volume 2 of Sigrid Undset’s Kristin Lavransdatter (I reviewed the first volume a little while back). A passage that caught my interest today was this one, involving a visit by Kristin’s father, Lavrans, to her and her husband Erlend’s new home at Husaby (near Trondheim):

…they were accompanied by two gentlemen whom Kristin didn’t know. But Erlend was very surprised to see his father-in-law in their company—they were Erling Vidkunsson from Giske and Bjarkøy, and Haftor Graut from Godøy.

Like any crank, I know things most people don’t – about matters of no interest to anyone else. What sparks my attention in this passage is the estates this Erling Vidkunsson owns. Giske was the home of Thorberg Arnesson, who married Erling Skjalgsson’s daughter Ragnfrid (as described in my novel King of Rogaland). And Bjarkøy was the home of Thore Thoresson (remembered by history as Thore Hund, Thore the Dog), whose brother Sigurd married Erling’s sister Sigrid. The fact that this man (who’s likely a documented historical character – there are plenty of them in these books) carries Erling’s name suggests he’s a descendent of these people, and thus a descendant of Erling himself.

That’s all. It just pleases me to discover Erling connections in my reading.

My evil eye

Photo credit HLS 44. Free to use under Unsplash License.

I know you’re aching to know how all my household crises are going. I’m happy to report that I got my new roof yesterday. (They taught me in radio broadcast to pronounce the double-o in roof like “brew,” not “look,” but I always feel a little pretentious doing it. Though I do do it.) It was a bit of a surprise, actually. I had understood the representative who’d last called me  to say that they were going to delay it a couple days, but there they were at 7:00 a.m., smack in the middle of my writing time. I’d wanted to warn my neighbors (with whom I share a driveway) about their arrival, but there was no time for that now. And they parked their dumpster trailer for the scraps right in that driveway.

The workers, however, labored rapidly and efficiently, and they cleaned up so well afterward that the yard looks better than before. And my new shingles are what they call “architectural,” which seems to mean they’re thicker. Quite nice looking, really.

My air conditioner, on the other hand, remains a dead soldier. I get a call from the HVAC company every few days, telling me they’re still waiting for the replacement compressor being sent by the home warranty company. That compressor is apparently a rare and precious item, and must be transported over the smoothest roads at a speed of no more than 30 mph.

I did get another thing accomplished, though, on Monday. I went to the Minnesota equivalent of the DMV, sat for an hour or so, and got my driver’s license renewed. Which brings us to the curious incident of the license photo.

By some strange providence, I do not share the common human complaint of taking bad document photos. It’s an irony that a man as unattractive as I am almost always takes a good picture. My old license photo was rather charming (if I do say so myself). I looked a little like Gabby Hayes in mid-chuckle.

But for some odd reason I found myself thinking about how to make the new photo better. I decided I wanted to look forceful. Stare directly into the lens. Be forthright. An alpha male. A Chad.

When I saw the final photo, though, I was a little shocked. The photo at the top of this post suggests its expression (just add 40 years, 50 pounds, and a gray beard).

I had no intention of looking angry. Just determined. But angry is what I got.

And it occurs to me to ask, “Does this contribute to my lifelong problem with making eye contact?”

I’ve long known that direct eye contact makes me uncomfortable. This is common in people on the autistic scale, even low on the scale (as I appear to be).

But if this is how I look when I do make eye contact, maybe I scare other people too. Maybe when I run away, they’re running as well.

It’s kind of like the mark of Cain. Troubling.

Personal drivel, plus Cain & Abel

William Blake’s “Cain and Abel,” 1826

First I’ll tell you what’ s going on in my thrill-packed life. Then I’ll tell you about one of my cosmic revelations. Those are always good for a chuckle.

There’s a shrink-wrapped pile of roofing material sitting in the driveway behind my house. I had hail damage last year and my insurance company authorized a full replacement. But one complication after another has delayed the actual job. First it was supposed to happen today. Then tomorrow. Now it’s all in flux – it may or may not happen tomorrow, like Schroedinger’s Shingles. What makes it annoying is that the contractors are going to be parking a dumpster in front of my garage when finally they get to work, which means I have to park on the street tonight on the possibility that work will start tomorrow.

Even more annoying, my air conditioning is out, and has been for about three weeks now. I have a sort of insurance for that, too – a home warranty. The HVAC tech who autopsied my unit said the compressor had burned out, and it couldn’t be replaced. A new AC unit would have to come in. And that shouldn’t take long.

The warranty company, however, has ideas of its own. They opted to replace the compressor. They have a source for replacements which (apparently) they get at a discount. But that source is not a fast source. So we’re still waiting for the part to be delivered.

Thankfully, we’ve had relatively cool weather recently.

Which is supposed to end tomorrow.

Ah, well. I grew up without air conditioning. And hey, it keeps my electric bills down.

A pack of blessings lie on my head, as the Friar said to Romeo (not long before Romeo killed himself).

And what is my revelation?

It wasn’t a full-fledged revelation, of course. Just one of those moments when two ideas inhabiting separate pigeonholes in my brain suddenly link, and I have an ah ha! moment.

It started out with Jordan Peterson. I’ve grown quite taken with Jordan Peterson videos. He’s not right about everything, but he can see correctly what the problems are. He exhorts me to do things I don’t want to do, which is generally a mark of truth.

Anyway, Peterson was talking about Cain in Genesis 4. Peterson’s interpretation of the story of Cain and Abel is that it represents the Easy Way and the Hard Way in life. Cain sacrificed vegetables, which were (as Peterson sees it) an easy sacrifice. Abel sacrificed animals, which means blood and pain. God was pleased with Abel because he took the Hard Way. The right thing in life almost always means blood and pain.

The spark, the circuit that closed, for me was a comparison to the parable of the talents, of which I think I’ve written here before. There are two versions of the parable. In Matthew 25, the master gives talents (sums of money) to three servants – five to one, two to another, and one to the last. In Luke 19, he calls ten servants and gives them ten talents each. In each case, the servants are told to do business with (invest) the money for him while he’s away. In each case, only one servant fails – the one who, instead of investing the money, hides it safely. He returns the full amount to his master, and his master is furious. He didn’t want security. He expected a profit.

The point in both stories – looking at it this way – is that God expects his servants to stretch their horizons. Do bigger things. Move outside their comfort zones. Break new ground, at least personally.

This isn’t about salvation, of course. Salvation is by grace. This is about our earthly lives – what God expects us to do with the talents He bestowed. We’re not here just to wait passively for Heaven. We’ve been given gifts – for the sake of our families, for our neighbors, and (especially) for the church.

And always God expects the bloody sacrifice, the dying to the self. Taking up the cross.

It all makes me feel tremendously guilty. But even I can recognize the truth of it.

Calamitous day

A day of woe. A day of calamity.

First of all, it was announced that the Dragon Harald Fairhair, the largest Viking ship replica in the world, which sailed all the way from Norway, is ending its American tour at Green Bay. It will not be coming to the Tall Ships Festival in Duluth, where I had hoped to see it.

The problem was that someone failed to plan for the cost of pilot’s fees in the Great Lakes. Funds were raised, much of them through the Sons of Norway organization, to pay for pilotage. But they couldn’t raise enough to get them to Duluth.

Second, when I got home I found that my air conditioning had failed. This isn’t supposed to happen — I pay a company to come out and inspect it every spring. And the unit isn’t very old. But so it is, and I sit here with the windows open. The service company, of course, was closed by the time I got home and discovered this. But I do have a message on their answering machine. Along, no doubt, with about 800 from other, equally deserving, people.

And to top it off, the republic appears to be doomed.

And how was your day?