NO! Don't you worry about Mrs. Hillbilly Mom! Her air conditioner is NOT on the fritz again. It's chugging right along on these 100-degree days, keeping the Mansion at a chilly 74 degrees. But that doesn't mean our unit performs its duties in silence.
Sure, there are the usual noises of kicking on and kicking off. The fan blowing. The ductwork popping as it cools and warms. All noises we're used to. It's the one I heard yesterday morning that threw a monkey wrench into my sleep schedule. Sweet Gummi Mary! You'd think it was a monkey wrench rattling around in the air conditioner, from the sound of it!
Farmer H had left for parts unknown around 6:45 a.m. I decided to sleep in, rather than arise after 3-and-a-half hours sleep for my driveway walk. I'll be glad when this heat wave is over. Evenings work much better for me.
Anyhoo...I rolled over to catch some more ZZZZs. Ah, sweet Morpheus, take me back to my dreams. They've been pleasant lately. I find gold and coins and my mom gives me advice. I probably should start writing down the details. But I'm pretty lazy. As evidenced by the walk-skippage.
What in the Not-Heaven was THAT? If I'd been sleeping on my back, I would have sat bolt upright in bed. Jackknifing bolt sideways just doesn't have the same ring to it. But that's what I did. Startled, I snapped my legs and torso forward like I was competing in the Old Lady Division of the Out-of-Bed Diving Championship, July 17, 2017.
Here's the thing. It was a little after 8:00 a.m. The room was lit by the rising sun coming through the built-in mini blinds of the french doors. But that noise was eerie. Perhaps you've heard that some unexplainable things go in here at the Mansion. Now I had this noise jackknifing me bolt sideways, when I was the only person in the house. Even out of a dead sleep, I knew that sound.
It was the sound of something having to do with the metal floor vents that give us our heat and air conditioning. It was not the sound of the ductwork popping at a certain spot between living room and kitchen when you step just right. Or wrong. It was the sound of the metal grate itself.
WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN WAS IN MY AIR CONDITIONER VENT?
I also pinpointed the location, all without turning over and looking. It was in the master bathroom. Was the air conditioner on the fritz again? Can an air conditioner throw a rod? That's what it sounded like. A metal rod clanging on the metal air vent. The louvered part, where it sits in the dark green ceramic tile of the bathroom floor, right behind the door.
Sometimes I hear things in that bathroom. Not often, because I'm not in that area of the house often. When I go to bed at 3:00, I usually go right to sleep. It's 3:00 in the freakin' morning, by cracky! It's not like I have to count sheep.
My heart was thumping out of my chest, in the way of the newly-startled-awakeds. I knew there was no getting back to sleep for another hour as I am accustomed. I went into the bathroom and looked at the vent as I closed the door. Nothing. As I went across the room to the throne to do my business, I saw it!
Farmer H's toothbrush was laying face down on the floor vent between the toilet and shower. Face down. You know, its bristles poking a little bit down through those vent louvers. Farmer H lays his toothbrush and his own tube of toothpaste on the metal top of the sliding-shower-door enclosure. He brushes his teeth in the shower. I guess he's ready if he ever wants to prepare a meal in there, eat it, and then clean his teeth. I guess something made Farmer H's toothbrush take a dive. He had been gone for over an hour, so I doubt he had anything to do with it. Maybe we had a small earthquake. I didn't consult the U. S. Geological Service to inquire.
It's highly possible that Farmer H's toothbrush might have touched the giant wooden-handled black industrial strength plunger that sits in that area.
To be fair, I DID tell him he might want to get a new toothbrush out of the drawer.