The Great Air Conditioner Fiasco

So the reason this post didn't happen last week is because it was too hot! Inside. In our house! Last weekend, we had invited Wes and Kelly and our friends Wayne and DeAnndra over for dinner (grilling out) and a game night. But it almost didn't happen. Because of what has come to be known as the Great Air Conditioner Fiasco. Some say it's only an urban legend. But I was there. I was an eye witness. Sweating in my own home. I can vouch for the truth.

It was mid-morning. I had laid places at the table for six people. There were even freshly cut hydrangeas for the centerpiece, to make up for the lack of fanciness my paper plates created.

Cy had asked his dad to come over and help with some stuff around the house. In the course of their projects, they decided to swap our current thermostat for a new one with scheduling. From the bedroom, I heard rustling in the garage near the breaker box, then those words that will forever live in the history of Sycamore Shade: "I'm not sure I've gotten them all. Don't do anything yet."

But it was too late. The air conditioner was already broken; the fuse already blown. We would spend the next five hours in relative silence, languishing under the ceiling fans, trying desperately not to move, for fear of bursting into flame.