Those of you who know how noise sensitive I am will realize this is a bit of a torment – I’m stuck in my own home with two guys tramping around with hoses, air guns, a powerful vacuum, and one of them is a trainee who must be shouted at.
We are having our ducts cleaned.
It hasn’t been done since the house was built in 1981.
I must stay because where the heck would I go? And because I must be the one who manages Gizzy, our chinchilla who hates noise more than I do.
I am, of course, sitting here with my noise protection head-gear; for some of the noises, it is barely enough. Four hours (est.) of this is going to feel great – it presses my head to do a good sound blocking job, but, hey, it’s better than the other options. I took the ibuprofen for the headache already: what a coincidence, you can take more in four hours!
Who knew that the inside of heating ducts got dusty?
Isn’t that what the filters are for?
Me, I grew up in a country without central air (Mexico) because it never got so hot that you needed air-conditioning, or so cold that the fireplace wouldn’t handle it those few nights a year when outside was chilly.
So, no ducts.
When I lived in Seattle, radiators. No ducts.
In grad school in Madison, Wisconsin – radiators.
First house was in Maryland – and even though we had central air and heating, we only had that house three years, and no changes were necessary. So we didn’t learn then.
Then, this house – and how was I supposed to know you had to hire a very short person to climb inside your ducts to clean them? Periodically? Job security for elves?
Last time – eleven years ago – when they replaced the HVAC, we actually PAID to have the ducts cleaned. But somehow it slipped our mind, and we never had them actually come do the job. (They’re looking into giving us our money back!)
Perfect time to write a blog post of the light-weight variety
Honestly, most of you who need to know this probably already do.
When people mention TV shows of their childhood, they are often surprised that I never saw them.
When people mention their English teachers being good or terrible in high school, college, creative writing or MFA program (or even the esoteric PhD in Literature), I realize I’ve never had but one English teacher, and that in a course I apparently didn’t need to take (after I’ve taken it, I find this out. No matter: I actually enjoyed a teacher who pranced around in front of the class spouting Shakespeare – because I’d never had one).
So, of course, I don’t know about duct cleaning.
I made the mistake of asking
Well, apparently most people don’t ask (maybe they just get out of there).
The nice young man-in-charge from the plumbing company must not get enough chances to expound, because we got a long spiel on the details of the process (which requires making holes in places with a drill). Enthusiastic lad.
All I wanted to know was the order of operations.
It turns out they basically don’t care. After doing certain things, they will go through each room and clean our the air supply vents. What order they do bedrooms in is not important.
So I will have them clean my office ducts, and then, while they’re doing something to the attic bedroom, I’ll scoot Gizzy in here, where she will promptly hide inside my upholstered armchair (she hates light, too), and go to sleep. Or into a state of shock. It’s hard to tell.
What will I be doing?
After delighting you with trivia like the above, I will play sudoku, surf the web, and generally waste the whole time.
Because there isn’t a chance in h-e-double hockey sticks that my brain will be able to do anything like writing fiction.
Or paperwork that I’ve been avoiding.
Or (coherent) phone calls. And the other kind, really, don’t solve anything.
And, even if I could walk properly, it’s too cold to go out for a long hike. Like to the next county. And I’d need food. And a nap. And the, you know, facilities.
Plus there are still people out there blowing leaves around, and outside isn’t that nice and quiet, either.
That’s the best you can do?
I could color, but I tried it once and I didn’t like it.
And I could embroider the sections in cross-stitch on my tapestry which I can’t do while watching TV because the room is too dark.
Or I could eat, from stress, continuously for the remainder of the time. Also maybe counterproductive.
Something actually useful?
Or I can think a bit about how you do book marketing and promotion when you’re as slow as I am, and the next book will take years, maybe (let’s sincerely hope not, but it’s been started since March 2015, and I’m already into its second chapter. Woo hoo! (In my defense, the first many months were spent in planning in excruciating detail.)).
Not much you can do while occupying the inside of a jet-engine. Ask the birds.
It will be over at some time in the afternoon
So don’t cry for me (although pity gratefully accepted). This is just, like waiting for the dentist for hours before he deigns to drill into your teeth, part of the torture of civilized life – and I am truly grateful for the opportunity to do nothing while other people work to get my ducts sparkling clean, considering what the rest of the world has to put up with.
I really hope I don’t look back to this, and realize this was an oasis of leisure.
After all, I don’t expect myself to get anything done today, and I usually pester myself continuously about getting something written, because, like, I’m wasting my life.
Bang. Bang. BANG!
Enjoy your quiet.
Now, in respect for others, I will gracefully listen to your own complaints. Leave one in my comments!
***** 0.99 Sale still going on until New Year’s Day *****
Did you know you can give people ebooks for presents by just buying the ebook at Amazon and supplying their email address? They don’t even have to have an account. Amazon handles the rest – and you can even put in a message for the giftee. US link here.
Amazon has a FREE app to read Kindle files for almost every device you could read on. All?
I personally wouldn’t want to read 167K books on a mobile, but there’s no accounting for taste.
All other countries who can purchase ebooks from the ‘Zon: type in Pride’s Children: PURGATORY in your very own Amazon.
I just love the editor at this online magazine. She publishes any drivel I care to supply!
Endless self promotion due to the fact that you need to see things SEVEN times before you buy.
Thanks to Stencil for the squirrel. Gizzy has the same kind of tail. Bushy.