Got home from a few days at Mom's only to find that our air-conditioner had finally died. Kaput. It's dead, Jim.
In Houston.
In July.
On a holiday.
Fuck. Me. Running.
It was 90 degrees outside with 85% humidity. In the house, it was 85 F. My poor cat must have been miserable, but was otherwise OK; he had plenty of water & food.
Since it's a holiday, we couldn't get anyone to come out. However, one of our neighbors is an electrician and handyman. He is good friends with an A/C guy who came over and checked it out; he'll be back tomorrow with the part. One of hubby 's friends has a little portable window unit-- his rental unit has unreliable A\C-- and he said we could borrow it for a day or two.
So, our master bedroom, at least, is warm but bearable. We put the little A/C unit-- we call it R2-- in the bathroom (it needs to vent out the window)--and it's slowly blowing cool air into the bedroom. So we're more comfortable but I can now hear all the fireworks our neighbors off setting off.
Hubby won't let our cat sleep in our bedroom so I had to put Junior up in his own room where his litter box is. I put the ceiling fan on and opened the window a little - and gave him food & water. 11 o'clock at night should be cool enough but I know the noise of all the damn fireworks is going to bother him.
MAN. We just paid off the mortgage and the car. We thought we were practically debt free. We knew we would need to get a new A/C in the next year or two but DAMN. We'll have to patch this one up just so we can survive and then get a whole new A/C.
Fuck.
I hope together you'll be able to stop her from overstraining herself. My mom, too, is the sort you'd have to nail to a chair in order to keep her from working 24/7.
Hopefully the repair works out OK and things are working again soon.