Ew. Y’all remember that book/movie? I vaguely do … Something about some kids getting locked in the attic, abused, and a mean old lady.

I think that played a part in my strong dislike toward attics. Gimme a good basement any day

Then, there was that scary rhyme that my relatives would say about an older house, belonging to a great aunt, that we used to live in. If I could write in French, I would tell it to you. But, basically it was something about an old lady, Madame Grand Bois, who lived in our attic, who’s looking for you and will come and get you. Yeah. Great memories in that old house. 

Needless to say, I didn’t go into the attic. And, still don’t like going into the attic.

I don’t ever need to go into the attic, so there’s no problem.

Except …

this one time where the AC stopped working in 90-something-degree weather and Beau was out of town.

Of course, Beau was sleeping at his hotel when I did try to get  in touch with him. The nerve of him to put his phone on “Do Not Disturb” when his wife and children in a whole other state. Emergencies could happen here!

Even tried getting him through Facebook … no dice … he was sleeping like a baby.

We slept one night with the temperature at 84 degrees. And, the next morning, I was determined to get that sucker fixed, even if it was Saturday.

Just as I was calling the AC guy, Beau called. He gave me instructions on what I needed to do before calling anyone. It involved … you guessed it … going up in the attic. (insert dramatic crying sounds)

So, I bit the bullet and marched up the stairs, pulled down the attic stairs, and slowly climbed up until my eyes were level with the attic floor. I used my flashlight to scan the whole area before I stepped up any further. There were no rodents or old ladies so I was clear to go up.

I pulled the string to turn on the light and saw that the AC pan (no idea what it’s called, but it’s like a big drip pan) was full of water. Beau’s instructions were to empty out the water. So, I began my long journey of scooping out water with a large cup and filling up a bucket, then taking the bucket full of water up and down the stairs … emptying the bucket and starting over. Ugh. Not fun.

Despite all the noise I was making, no one in the house woke up to come and help me. No. One. And, I was NOT quiet. So … I continued … alone and sweating profusely.

When I finally emptied out that large pan, Beau said I would have to find where the pipe was loose, take it apart, and then blow on the pipe to rid it of any clogs. GU. ROSE. I was going to skip this step until he said if I didn’t do it, I would have to start all over again the next day with the emptying of the water. Ugh again.

I found the loose pipe, unattached it, and stared at the inside of the pipe. Ew. Yuck. I was disgusted that I was going to have to put my mouth on that nasty thing. I encouraged myself … cheered myself on … and then I did it. I touched that pipe with my mouth. I did my best to get any clogs out.

I’m pretty sure I’m contaminated now. Ah well.

Guess what? The AC kicked on and we have had AC ever since.

I’ve come to realize that I don’t want to do things like this. Nope. When I was younger, I would’ve been more than happy to prove that I could do whatever a man could do with no problem. I would go above and beyond to prove myself. But, as I get older … nah … I don’t wanna. That’s what husbands are for! And, I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. So, basically I don’t care if I am able or not able to do those type of manly things and honestly, I just don’t want to.

But, I fixed the AC.

And, then unclogged the garbage disposal.

And, then ridded the house of some nasty, nasty bugs.

And, I don’t want to have to do any of those things again. Come home, Beau. (insert dramatic, loud crying noises again)