Bring on the pyromania

If it had been a telemarketer, I likely would have let loose some naughty words. But when the telephone rings at 7:30 a.m. and it's the guy who's going to come fix your chimney?

Here, let me wipe the sleep out of my eyes and refrain from yawning while I verbally kiss the ground beneath your feet.

And I totally would have if it weren't for the fact he then said, "And you might want to bump the heat up and let it run for a while, 'cause the guys are gonna have to shut the furnace down."

'Scuse me? Come again? It was 24 degrees out when I got up to answer the phone and my furnace was about to be non-working for the next God only knows how many hours. Par for the course. I grew up in a drafty old house with one register in the center of the upstairs. As children, my sister and I used to stand over it in our nightgowns to get warm before running and jumping into bed at night. I could certainly handle six or so hours of no furnace. A little more advance notice would have been nice, though.

So, I followed directions and set the thermostat to "hot flash" and went about my business until I heard a truck pull in. The whole team was not here, just Tommy.  It's cool. He's a nice guy. He sat in the driveway waiting on Mike, who I consider to be the main dude, to get here with the van filled with their equipment.

Charlotte called him "Chimney Guy" every time he came in the house. "Hi, Chimney Guy!" "Hey, Chimney Guy,  you in my house." "Chimney Guy, you fix my chimney?" It was cute for the first 10 minutes. The following five hours and 45 minutes were somewhat excruciating. She's lucky she's freaking adorable.

I was still hardly awake.

And had I showered? Not on your life. Why would I have jumped in the shower when I had to worry about getting the house warm, the kids under control and myself moderately caffeinated before they showed up? Some things are just less important - like smelling like a flower - when you're going to be faced with guys who are going to get all sooted up, smell like woodsmoke and track creosote and dirt into the house ... they're not going to know or care that you're wearing the same sweatshirt they saw you in two days ago or that your hair really could stay in that messy bun thing you do even if you took the hairband out.

Honest, I shower daily. I make time for it. My hair just hates being clean.

Let's not discuss my grossness. Moving on.

My day was filled with the sound of jackhammering, scraping, breaking ceramic and the dog barking ... all fucking day. You know how it sounds when you go to the dentist and all you can hear is the chipping away of plaque buildup and those metal instruments scratching along the backside of your teeth? The poor chimney. She got a root canal on top of a cleaning.

And then they came inside to move the wood stove and get a look at what the damage was at the lower end of the chimney.

Gaping hole? Check.

Oh hey, guys, thanks for leaving that gaping hole open in the wall for the second half of the day. It's awesome. I swear I didn't sit down for fear of getting cold from the draft. The kids, however, thought it was the most appropriate time to fling the door to the enclosed porch wide open and reopen it every time I closed it. While there is a heat source out there, it's on the lowest setting next to "fuck you warmth" so suffice it to say all that heat I pumped into the house was for naught. Thanks, babies, you're full of amazing.

Stove pulled away from wall? Check check.

Our day was basically a normal day - the dog still tried to eat the "strangers," breakfast was peanut butter sandwiches, lunch was the same, we played Play-Doh, I had some anxiety about colors getting mixed (totally normal, right?). Only difference was I showered in five minutes flat for fear one of the guys would come in the house and Bailey would succeed at being the guard dog she pretends to be. The sounds of the jackhammer and the bathroom vibrating still when I turned the water off alerted me to the fact I'm just a crazy person. By 2:30 p.m. they were wrapping up for the day.

Yes, today was totally normal except the stove is still sitting away from the wall, there's metal tape
covering the exhaust hole and there's a chimney liner the length of our garage with one end balanced precariously on the minifridge to make it fit inside said garage. The furnace was turned back on without incident, I was thankful to not have to get another pair of socks out and the girls were slightly saddened when their new friends headed out for the day. I think it's mostly because they were having fun borrowing the drop cloths that were laid down in the living room to use as their own personal picnic and project area.

But not to worry. "Chimney Guy" Mike and his partner Tommy will be back tomorrow. I can only hope this means the end is near and we can use some of the wood Boy Wonder chopped last fall to heat this house, otherwise it's going to be a very cold spring should we run out of fuel oil.

 

While the guys were outside, Josie and Charlie took it upon themselves to claim the drop cloths.