Sometime in the middle of the night last night, our compressor died. Ya know the thingee that makes the A/C work? Yeah, that one. Nothing like having the A/C go out in Virginia right before Memorial Day Weekend.
Husband was complaining last night (as usual) about how hot it was when we went to bed (and, no, he wasn’t talking about me). He said, quite plainly and innocently, our compressor is dying. So, it did what all life-dependent pieces of technology in one’s life then do when you badmouth it. It obeyed.
Of course, before Husband could finish his cereal at 7 a.m. this morning, he was already on the phone with a technician. (If only I could get him to move that quickly on other things. Sigh.) Someone is coming tomorrow at 8 a.m., but Husband said it’s not looking good for anything to be fixed before the weekend.
Shhh. Be careful what you say. You’re pretty powerful there, Husband, I remarked. (But, on the other hand, maybe I can get him to start talking about our new house and it might build itself?)
And, just yesterday I was talking about how we needed to do more fun things and not work so much. Something simple, like just go to the movies more, I suggested. Who knew we were so powerful with our words? Movie theatres are notoriously overly air-conditioned. Methinks our declarations are in cahoots.
