A Trip Down Memory Lane

Several years ago our air conditioner quit working. Since we live in Houston, that means we have to get it fixed. I mean, we HAVE to get it fixed. There is no such thing as living in Houston without air conditioning. We don't live without it. Period. It just isn't done.

I phoned the repairman (I'll call him Slick) immediately like any sane person would do and the next day in the afternoon he came over. We didn't live for those 24 hours. We just tried to hang on the best we could. We headed over to McDonald's to let the kids play for hours and hours which is what people do here when their a/c isn't working and it's hotter than your average blistering day in hell.

I do have to tell you that being in McDonald's Playland for hours and hours, no matter how cool it might be, is its own kind of hell.

Anyway, Slick came and he dinked around outside by the air conditioner for awhile. And then he knocked on my door and said he had found the problem. Hooray! I love you, Slick!

We walked over to the a/c unit and Slick knelt down and said that my capacitor was bad.

Now, a lot things starting going through my mind. Things like:

Okay, right.

Sure it is.

Yes, I was born yesterday. I haven't ever seen the movie Back To The Future.


Actually, I wasn't born yesterday. I have seen Back to the Future and I know exactly what capacitors do. They make time travel possible. I know that a flux capacitor is exactly the thing you need if you want to go back to 1955. Well, a flux capacitor and a DeLorean. And some plutonium too.

What I don't know is how to explain to Slick that I know he's conning me. It has to be conveyed gently so that he doesn't get mad and leave me stranded in a hot house trying to find another repairman who of course will not get here till tomorrow or maybe even the day after that. These kinds of social confrontations make me uncomfortable. And a little itchy.

So I did what any level-headed girl would do. I told him I'd have to check with my husband before I could authorize anything. Con-men accept that as an answer. Maybe they know it's a line, maybe they don't. But they back down immediately. Incidentally, door-to-door salesmen also accept it as a valid answer.

I excused myself, called my husband and found out that capacitors are real things.

(Now, how come Ty always has to know everything? It was nice and handy this time, sure, but most of the time it is very inconvenient to be married to a man who knows everything.)

I gathered up all my smarts and dignity and marched myself back outside and told Slick that I'd be very grateful if he would replace the bad capacitor. And he did. And the house cooled down and we were able to sleep that night without soaking the sheets with sweat.

Now all of you know just like I do that capacitors are real. So when your capacitor goes bad you won't have to go through all the mental anguish that I did. I'm happy to share my knowledge with you. It's what I'm here for.

Try saying "capacitor" out loud. It's a fun word.