Might as well be Monday

“Do you smell that?” His Nibs said, just before the radio went off.
“Ngggghhhhunnnggghhh?” I replied.
“Do you smell something BURNING!?” He was Very Nervous.
To tell you the truth, I smelled my pillow, and that was about it. The kids were moving around, getting ready for school. Then, after a few minutes of trying to figure out if I was still asleep, I realised that yes, I too smelled something kind of smokish.
“I think it’s the furnace!” His Nibs called from the main floor.

I sighed, then bumbled my way downstairs. His Nibs (who is not necessarily mechanically inclined) is staring at the furnace. I open it up, turn off the pilot light, then turn off the power. His Nibs asked about the pilot light. It was clear to me that all things furnace were stolidly in my realm. I reset the furnace, and listened to it for a minute. “It sounds like the fan motor is blown,” I said. Then I went upstairs and felt the vent. “Yes. The fan motor is blown,” I said again. “You’ll have to call the furnace guy.”

So His Nibs called a few furnace guys, and the morning was spent having the fan motor replaced (it was, indeed, blown. Hot, even).

Then, His Nibs couldn’t get the thermostat cover open. Then, His Nibs couldn’t find batteries for the thermostat. Then, the light wouldn’t work when His Nibs tried to turn it on. Then, His Nibs realised it was Recycling Day, and we hadn’t put our recyclables done. Then, when getting eggs for breakfast, he ended up throwing one across the kitchen, and it smashed on the floor.

So.

Today has not been a good day, so far, for His Nibs. Be gentle with him.

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

2 Comments

  1. Poor His Nibs. Tell him to have a Keith’s and that everything is okay. At least the furnace didn’t blow when it was minus 60.

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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