This afternoon, I was sitting on the couch doing a little crafting, pretending I don’t have my first pharmacology test next week, and Rob was upstairs practicing for his recital, when all of a sudden I heard a loud booming sort of noise. I got up and went to the back window in the dining room to see what piece of heavy machinery was in the street making our house shake. Strangely enough, there was nothing out there. I stood there, puzzled for about 2.2 seconds, when I noticed that the walls were trembling (in fear?). At this point, Rob has materialized in the kitchen. He sprints down the basement stairs and starts yelling from below, “Turn off the thermostat! Turn it down! Turn it down!” Miraculously, the shaking and jackhammer noise stopped. I went down to meet Rob at the furnace. “Did our furnace blow up?” I asked, unable to hide the glee in my voice. (Glee? Glee? Who in their right mind would wish for the furnace to blow up! Why, me, the homeowner with a home warranty that covers furnaces that blow up.) Rob, unable to hide his disappointment (also being a homeowner with a home warranty that covers blown up furnaces), sighs and says, “No, I think it’s just the motor.”
So. Now we are in familiar territory: call the home warranty company, get a furnace guy out here, fix it, and go back to life as we know it with a beast of a furnace that is 822 years old — that doesn’t seem to be blowing up any time soon.