I was leaving Walmart with an armful of groceries when this happened. I walked up to the car and used my key fob to open the doors, but the doors wouldn’t open! I thought the darn key fob was too low on batteries to work. I went to the door on the driver’s side to open the door with the ignition key, but the key would not work. There I was with a load of cold groceries and no way to get in my car and get home. I was standing beside the car, so what the devil was going on? I walked around to the rear hatchback and it wouldn’t open either. I noticed on the back hatch that the dealership tag was not where I had bought the car and it was then that I started scanning the parking lot. Three cars away I saw my car. I walked over to it and all the doors were unlocked and they were ready to open. I had this happen a decade ago with my other car. Once was enough, but now a second time seemed highly unlikely. It was then that I realized that in my elder years, things that normally only happen once in a lifetime can come full circle if one lives as long as I have.
In other news of my breathtaking life of the mundane, my existence is similar to a monk with a never ending routine. I had chores that I had put off for too long. The first was to wash the walls around my patio. The walls appeared to have never been washed in the 20 years this apartment has been in existence. I retrieved my bucket, filled it with warm soapy water, climbed up on a stepladder and went to work. It’s a small nine feet wide area with two four foot walls out from the sliding glass door. It took four full buckets of soapy water to clean. It looked like new again when I finished. While outside I washed the sliding glass door for the first time in more than two years. That took a lot of energy out of this old man. I needed to sit down and have a chilled refreshment. Those of you who know me, know what the golden refreshment was. It was so good that I turned on my radio to listen to some country music and have another cold aperitif before having my lunch. There’s nothing as good as country music and a properly chilled beverage. The two seem to go together with songs of lost love and pickup trucks.
The second chore awaited me on the following day. I had long wondered why the air conditioning or the heating was fine in every room but my bedroom. I got out my step ladder again and removed the baffle to see what was blocking the airflow. It was obvious immediately. Whomever put in the ductwork in my apartment did not know what he was doing. The duct was initially cut and fashioned too short to reach the bedroom. The duct was clean. It was 12 inches wide and 8 inches high, but it was also 2 feet short. The next thing he did was make a cover over the 12x8 duct with an 8 inch diameter circle in it. Then it was attached with a vinyl piece of ductwork which went to the end port on the bedroom wall. I could not figure out the next mistake. Somehow the end port was bent upward more than 3 inches, squeezing the duct even more and not allowing air flow. I used all of my strength in the narrow duct, but could not bend the steel sheet metal down for better airflow. Sadly, now I know the answer and there is no way for me to fix it.
Life isn’t easy for anyone 18 or older, but it gets worse as one reaches the point of becoming a geriatric. All I can do now is smile and accept life as it comes to me. That’s what I do these days. It’s really not all that bad. I thank the Lord every morning when I wake up and go on with the life I am given.
That's a lot of work! Why don't you call the apartment manager and show him the duct problem, they should be able to fix it.
ReplyDeleteWhat they should do and what they will do are sadly two different things. I was happy to see what the problem was, the repair does not matter to me.I don;t know how long I will be here or how long I'll be in existence.
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