Well readers (or should I say reader, singular? Wouldn't want to be accused of self-aggrandizement.) last night I hit a new low in techno-incompetence. After figuring out how to make a virtual me and a virtual pet; after successfully using the Edit HTML feature, I thought I was hot stuff. Meet the new techno-wiz in town! No blinking 12:00 on my VCR, nosiree Bob! (sideline: Why Bob? Why not Fred? Or in the interest of gender equality - Hey! It worked for hurricanes - Irene?)
I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, never ever let him forget he's a man (honestly, who would forget that!) What I can't do, apparently, is figure out how our new programmable thermostats work.
Got back from celebrating Nick's birthday with three of his nearest and dearest at Bazbeaux Pizza about 10:00 last night. I was knitting and watching the news (oh alright, I was watching the finale of Shear Genius. Happy?) and I was sweating all over my Seasilk. When I looked at the thermometer in my studio it read 80 degrees. I know people don't usually have thermometers inside their house, but my husband got it for me because he got tired of answering the question of menopausal women everywhere: "Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?"
I put my hand over the register and the air was tepid - not good. I kicked the cat off my lap, hauled myself out of my knitting chair (also my reading and television watching chair,) looked at the thermostat and saw that it was set for 78 degrees and currently reading 79. Looked reasonable, so I goosed it down by a couple degrees, figuring there was a balance problem between the old section of our house and the newer addition. More knitting. More sweating. No cold air.
I turned it down to 74. Still no cold air. I walked outside and listened for the whir of the unit. No whir. Not good. I wiggled the circuit breakers. Nothing. I prepared myself for breaking the bad news to my husband that, even though we are but weeks away from listing the house, we may have to spring for a new A/C unit (current one is vintage - 22 years - ah yes, 1985 was a very good year.)
Husband walked upstairs from the basement where he had been working, walked over to the thermostat, removed the cover, and moved the little button from Off to Cool. Husband looked at me in disbelief.
I think I'll stick to complicated lace patterns. Easier to figure out.
Go ahead and laugh. I know you want to.