Meltdown

Trials and tribulations aside, I'm not one to complain about pregnancy. Well, at least not in public. My husband hears me complain All The Time about my hot feet which is technically me complaining about pregnancy because it was my first pregnancy four and a half years ago that robbed me of my once lovely-because-they-were-slightly-icy-all-year-round feet. I read about other women having a similar pregnancy symptom, in part because of all the extra blood flow in the body, but I was really hoping it would go away after Baby arrived. It didn't. And now, with Baby No.3 just around the corner and it being the first day of summer/longest day of the year/whatever this day is, my feet are on FIRE.

Did I mention our air conditioning went out today? You may already know this because I took to Facebook this afternoon in my heat and frustration because our system had been running all afternoon but absolutely no cool air was coming out of a single vent in the house. Actually, no air was coming out whatsoever. And my dear husband, who had taken our dear son bowling for the afternoon and left me at the house with the whiney I-want-Daddy-ONLY toddler, had not taken his phone along with him. So what could I do? I wanted to call any and every service person in the fair city of Hastings but was stuck in a bit of a 1950s dilemma because I didn't know how dear husband would feel about that. You see, I've been trying to tell him, since at least yesterday and perhaps even earlier in the week (or before) that I thought our system wasn't running properly. He brushed my complaints off, perhaps because of the constant hot foot whining and the fact that we were still waiting for a routine maintenance check on our system which would tell us how things were or were not running.

After some nagging gentle encouragement from me, Ben called this morning to confirm a system check appointment for next Thursday. I was happy. Then, as temps this afternoon climbed into the mid-90s for the second day in a row and our unit kept going and going and going while the temp in the house kept climbing and climbing and climbing, I was not so happy. Especially because I was stuck in the sticky house and today's was apparently the longest bowling adventure in the history of kid bowling and I had absolutely no way of contacting the slow bowlers to tell them to get the flip home and make some flipping calls to fix our flip diddle air conditioner until they finally got home at 4:30. On a Friday. Great time to be asking for a service call, eh?

Well, two and a half hours later and our fan is up and running again. We can't turn the thermostat on just yet but will be able to do so later tonight and a full repair will be made next week when a part arrives. So I don't have to sleep in the basement or at a friend's house tonight and I can quit hoping that I go into labor, just so I can have access to air conditioning.

Moral of the story? Maybe, just maybe, even when she is REALLY pregnant and always talking about her REALLY hot feet, a wifey might have some intuition that something in the house needs a'fixin. Now, said wifey is going to take a cold shower, put her swelling feet on ice, and anxiously await the actual air's return.