On an absolute last-second whim, I headed out this afternoon to take a hike around one of my favorite nearby attractions, the Tualatin Hills Nature Park. It’s just two stops away via MAX light rail, but between the pandemic and everything else I just haven’t made it over there in a couple of years.
At 2:38pm Pacific time, I emailed Honeywell’s support folks requesting any available tracking info for the replacement AC unit, since I hadn’t heard back from them since the previous Thursday when they agreed to the warranty replacement.
At 2:41pm Pacific time, a quick tap on the door to the apartment heralded the arrival of the replacement AC unit, thus rendering the email I’d just sent absolutely pointless.
Now imagine a lifetime full of this sort of thing and you begin to understand why I feel so emotionally tired all of the time.
August 15th, a Monday. We took possession of the AC unit I’d spent an untidy sum of money on to replace the previous AC that went kaput.
September 1st, a Thursday, a mere two and a half weeks later, I cut the power cord and emailed Honeywell Support a photo to prove I’d done so. This was the last step in getting them to ship me a replacement unit under warranty, since this one had developed a worrying and occasionally rather loud rattling noise within days of going into service.
So here we are, another 90F+ day ahead, and we’re short an AC unit.
Again.
For an unspecified amount of time.
Again.
I am so, so tired of everything.
