Furnace Guy has been here so many times since August, I may have to assign him his own mug. Just sayin’.
You know, we inherited a furnace when we bought this house. I wouldn’t say it was as old as dirt, but it could qualify as a Golden Girl. Yet, it somehow managed to survive on an annual routine maintenance visit for a very long time. Very long. I guess it was one of those furnaces that used to walk a mile to school….in winter….in two feet of snow…with no boots.
My eight-year-old new furnace — not so much. This baby is a high maintenance mid-efficiency little drama-queen-in-waiting; the pop princess of the heating/ac set.
After replacing her motor and tinkering off and on with her all summer, Furnace Guy was coming Monday for the annual check-up — some unspecified time between noon and five. Fortunately, I’m usually home at some unspecified time so this worked for me.
I got to thinking I’m spending a lot of money here. This should be more fun for me. What to do? I decided to cook a roast chicken dinner while Furnace Guy was here, just to torment him. Yes. I have a dark side. I figure if I can make Mr. G, honey my slave just by making my red wine braised beef — and he IS my slave — I should be able to torment Furnace Guy with a roast chicken. Easy-peasy.
By the time Furnace Guy arrived, that chicken was wafting nice little roasty aromas everywhere. And I think if he’d been flying solo, FG would have bartered his cheque for a chicken dinner.
Torment 101. I passed it.
Our pop princess is purring like a kitten after all this attention $$$. It better hold her for another year. Furnace Guy might have had the last word. He was sporting so much cologne that I could still smell him in the basement for hours after he left — Phantom Furnace Guy.
Torment 101. He passed it. I guess we’ll have to call it a draw.