And the saga continues

As promised, the saintly serviceman arrived after lunch to address my heat pump issue and got right to work. He knelt in the snow, removed the side panels of the silent machine, and began his inspection.

It was going to be a good day.

Pretty soon he stomped his snowy feet and came inside. It looked as if the problem might be in the thermostat, he said, which was good news — not a major part. Did I have fresh batteries to put in? I did. (So proud of myself!)

He installed them with prompt precision, punched a series of the right buttons, and waited. I was waiting, too. After he massaged a few more places on the thermostat, he concluded that the whole thing was shot and would need to be replaced. “I’ll run into town and get one,” he said.

It was going to be a good day.

In a short time, his truck was back in my driveway and he was headed for the door with a box in his hand. He opened the box and began to assemble its contents with such knowledge and skill so practiced that he tossed the folded instruction page aside. As he worked, he told me that when he got to the store, it had closed early for the day. After all, it was Christmas Eve day. He called one of the staff that he knew, who readily responded, “Sure, I’ll come in and get you a thermostat.”

It appeared to me that it WAS a good day already, with lots of good people in it.

The master serviceman monitored the enlivened heat pump, felt satisfied with its sound, and confidently put the outside panels back on, tightening screws with his screwdriver. He watched and trusted the temperature numbers to continue to climb on the thermostat. To the truck he went to prepare the paperwork and bill. I’ve never been more willing, nor glad, to pay a bill. I hardly looked at the total. In fact, I rounded it up a little when I wrote the check. And I gave him a loaf of home-baked bread, whether he wanted it or not.

It had been a good day.

I began to unplug space heaters, remove stuffing from around outside doors, and get the house back in normal order. A feeling of peace and gratitude came over me as I turned and walked through the living room. There in the middle of the floor sat a fat furry mouse. He stared up at me with his little beady eyes to say, “Not so fast; it ain’t over yet!” Little did he know me. I was not going to let him undo my good day. I grabbed an old shirt and threw it over him. He quickly realized he would not share in the warmth of my repaired heat.

Conclusion: It was still a good day.