The King and His Castle

This past week, our central air conditioning has been on the fritz. We didn't have air conditioning when I was growing up, so I consider it to be a small luxury, its absence a minor inconvenience. Thus, I didn't at first understand why I was getting hourly temperature reports from various "zones" in the house through the evening. I didn't understand it, that is, until in the morning, when Sam informed me that he had gone to bed at 2:00 a.m., temperature 81 degrees upstairs, because he figured that "by then, I was certain it wouldn't get any hotter for you and the Munchkin."

Then I realized that this was not simply an inconvenience; it was the Air Conditioning Crisis of 2008, one of a series of military-style engagements and opportunities for heroic, testosterone-driven measures (let's not say theatrics) in defense of the Home. These have become only more frantic since the arrival of the Child.

In this instance, several days were devoted to strategizing and maneuvering. First, a supplementary window unit was purchased and installed. Then, heat buildup was determined to be coming from the attic. I was given orders to call the roofer and request an estimate on an attic fan. While we awaited a callback, more Internet-based intelligence was gathered, and another approach was discovered: an insulated cap that would cover the hatch into the attic. I assumed that the cap would be purchased some time over the next few weeks, but no: we had one in our home within about 45 minutes. Next, fans were gathered and set up in a heavily theorized, mouse-trap-like sequence to blow cool air from the window unit through the upstairs.

More temperature reports followed, until the King of the Castle determined that through constant vigilance in moving the fans at the proper times, we could keep the upstairs at about 80 degrees. We all slept well that night: the baby and I because in truth the heat doesn't bother us, and the King because his mind was at ease.

But then, a second calamity ensued. The front door lock needed to be replaced, and it took several hours of banging and cursing before the old mechanism came out. It was enormous. There was very little left of the door to attach the new locks to, and of course, the old locks were not in a standard configuration. Three trips to Lowe's and 9 hours later, things were looking grim. The King was extremely distressed at the idea that his baby might sleep in a house that had not been secured. He piled books on top of a stool in front of the door and slept on the courch so that if disturbed, the books would awaken him and he could thwart any kidnappers right there in the front hallway!

Thankfully, the door has now been secured, and the air conditioning people are due here tomorrow morning. I married a gentle man, but even there: the caveman lurks within.