The raging, ravaging Canadian winter weather is gone. The one week of rainy, mild spring is a mere memory. We are now in the throes of the hot, hazy, humid, hideousness of summer. Oh, there are those Canadians who live for summer! These brave, outdoorsy types, tackle the elements with the greatest bravado! Smear on that SPF 80 sunscreen! Bathe in mosquito repellant! Swim in Lake Ontario (very, very…brave). Nature calls! Then there is me…the Princess of Pampering! The Maiden of Mollycoddling! You get the idea. Now imagine this “Princess” returning to her humble abode after a long (air conditioned) day at work. Driving home in her (air conditioned) vehicle only to enter her humble abode and feel that crushing stank of humidness attacking her person. NO! It couldn’t be true, could it?

It happened. Our beloved new air conditioner was not even 4 years old and the extreme heat of the great outdoors had brought on its demise. My usual “Damsel in Distress” was not a viable option. This was war!

After a fitful, sweaty sleep, I called the service department of the company who had installed our air conditioning unit. Being a Friday, I already had a preconceived notion that I would hear, “I’m sorry, all of our technicians are booked today.” I was correct. I was informed that a technician (our saviour) would be arriving Saturday between 12pm and 4pm. Step one completed. I worked from home that day (hoping, praying, begging, bribing) that a service person would finish a job early and become available. One of those honest/dishonest wishes came true as their dispatch called Wiseguy (my beloved husband) to inform him that rescue was on the way.

Our saviour was an eager, troubleshooting, dynamo apprentice and his look of dismay said it all. Our thoughts were confirmed when he said, “Based on everything I have tested, it should be working.” Our diligent student called his Supervisor a couple of times and then came to us with the verdict: “Someone else will be back tomorrow.” The internal temperature of our homestead had now climbed to a standard rainforest temperature of 86 degrees F (36 C). Hubby and I went into survival mode.

Flashback to 2003: We purchased our home knowing that there was no working air conditioning. We had elderly people living with us who were very averse to this cooled down way of living. We survived two years on fans. We installed ceiling fans in every bedroom and purchased stand up fans to cool all other areas of the house. This was survival, after all.

Fast forward to 2024: Diagnosis: Air conditioning unit needs new compressor. The ancient 20 year old fans have been brought out of retirement and are gently blowing and helping keep internal temperature of home down to 80 degrees F. Survival mode includes: turning on all ceiling fans to keep air circulation at a premium; opening of all windows nightly to ensure cool night air flows breezily through living space. We were fine. We would be fine. Tomorrow a superior service technician would come out and professionally resolve our issue.

Saturday. The grandmother clock chimes noon. Tick tock. Tick tock. The previous night’s sleep evaded us until exhaustion set in. An inherited futon became a sleep raft as it lay underneath the whirling ceiling fan in the sitting room.

Saturday, at 12:45 pm, our doorbell rang. Hallelujah! Our guy Jimmy was here to save the day! Windows had been closed. Blinds were tightly shut. Fans were at full capacity. Internal temperature 86 degrees. Jimmy read the notes from the previous night and said we would be up and running in no time. Yay Jimmy! We were planning a parade for Jimmy! NO ONE was better than Jimmy! Then Jimmy said, “You need a new compressor.” Disappointment. Shock. Sadness. Sweaty home owners. “How long until the part comes in?” I inquired. Jimmy would ensure it got ordered on Monday so it would arrive either Tuesday or Wednesday. With our hopes dashed, Jimmy left with the promise of return.

So began the sleepless nights. The bed swapping. Cold showers. Creative ways to heat food. The kitchen was officially off limits after Monday. We had two nights of thunderous thunderstorms and hours of rainfall. The windows remained open. Who cares about a wet house? Not us! Keep that cool air coming!

Wednesday. Small reprieve. After two days of storms, The outdoor temperature was 68 F (20C). The internal temp was 77F (25 C).

Wednesday – 12:30 pm: JIMMY WAS BACK!

Jimmy informed us that he had called a colleague to assist him as he needed a specialized container to remove and store the freon from our A/C unit. The colleague was an apprentice and Jimmy, being a 12-year veteran, decided that showing the newby how to install a new compressor would be a viable educational moment. We agreed.

Apprentice Newby left after 3 hours and Jimmy continued the repair. At 3.5 hours Jimmy made an appearance in our hallway. Hubby and I were silently celebrating our new air conditioned life. Upon seeing Jimmy and asking if all was done, Jimmy sheepishly grinned and said, “I’m not going to lie…” Jimmy had been so avid in his instruction of the youthful apprentice that he had mistakenly installed the compressor and topped up the freon, bypassing the installation of an all important filter.

“What does that mean Jimmy?” It meant there would be no cooling of the domestic habitation. He would need to return the following day with another empty freon container to empty the now-topped up freon, thus enabling him to remove the compressor in order to perform the same repair, but which would now include the needed filter. Adios brother Jimmy. See you tomorrow.

Thursday morning – internal temperature – 75F. Perfect! 12:15 pm. Jimmy jogged to our front door! Today is the day! Jimmy got to work.

Jimmy: “Can you feel it?” he asked.

Yes. Yes I did.

And with that I sauntered happily through the overheated home, closing the windows to trap in that wonderful coldness. I caught myself trying to turn off the whirring fans, but was not quite confident that all was well. It had been a week of downs and downs after all. They could stay on for one more night.

Tonight, as I ready myself for sleep, there is a quietness. There is something lacking. And then I hear it, no… I don’t hear it. The freedom from the whir. All fans gone. Thank you Jimmy.