Sweating my fur balls off...

My central AC decided to quit working today. I know, you don't wanna hear me bitch about how hot it is in my house right now... even though it is... hot... fucking hot. So I'll spare you that gripe session and instead I'm going to bitch about my HVAC unit and my crawl space and the reason why I, though I hate going in there, have to enter that hell hole every couple of weeks. The good news is, I've got pictures!


The entrance to the portal of hell: it's about 20 inches wide by 30 inches high, and it's on the floor of my garage.



Once climbing down into the tomb, you'll notice several things: a pile of ancient relics on the left, haphazardly thrown there by my ex about 10 years ago (I don't dare move it for fear of what I might disturb), cobwebs everywhere, rat droppings on top of the furnace and everywhere else, and no light in sight.



This is a shot looking back at the opening to the tomb, once you've traversed the tricky walkway, while completely hunched over (it's about 3.5 to 4 feet high in there at any given point... sometimes less). I was going to take a picture of myself hunched over, but at the last minute I thought, "What if I hold the camera out, snap the photo, then turn it around to see what it looks like only to see some C.H.U.D. or goblin in the shadows behind me!" That would freak me out and I'd never be able to go in there again, so I didn't take a picture of me. Plus I was sweating balls.



Once around the other side of the furnace, THEN you will find the light with the pull chain, after you've crawled under the big metal air pipe that's 2 feet off the ground...



That's also where you find the opening to the furnace's air filter... so I stand there, leaning over that big pipe with a few inches between my hair and the spiders inhabiting the spaces between the floor joists above my head, trying to maneuver the filter in place, duct tape it back up (or the rodent denizens will pull it out and use it for bedding), all while screaming, "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! I HATE SPIDERS! I HATE THIS FUCKING FURNACE! I HATE THIS FUCKING CRAWLSPACE! FUCK!"


So I did all that to no avail today, because the cool air never came back on... I guess I may have finally burned out the nearly 30 year old compressor... choked the system with love, that is... which brings me to my next set of pictures and the main reason for my having to go down into Al Capone's vault every couple of weeks: my family of furballs. I've taken some artistic licence here, but I wanted to introduce all of them anyhow.


This is Ufa, whom you've all met previously when she tangled with bees a little while back. You've probably also noticed her and I sharing a kiss in my photo gallery. She's part English Setter and part Labrador Retriever. She's definitely the beauty queen of the bunch.


This is Gracee, whom the vet told me when it was discovered she had patellar luxations as a puppy that she wouldn't live past 10 years due to severe arthritis... she's turning 14 now and though she may not be able to get up the stairs anymore, she's defying the odds. She's part Pit Bull and part Golden Retriever... not a good combo... looks rather like a hyena. But she's the lead dog of the pack, after me, that is.



This is Chaucer, doing what he does best... peeing. He's a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and the only pet I've gotten from a breeder (the rest are adopted from shelters) and some of you may recognize him better from this shot...


Baby Chaucer, 8 yrs ago



That's Queequeg with Gomez... not a good picture, but that's because Queequeg is camera shy and afraid of her own shadow. Queequeg is a Black Lab mixed with god knows what, and Gomez is a Prazsky Krysarik... I found both of them at animal control in the same exact cage, but 2 years apart. To get a sense of scale, try this equation: G = 1/12 Q, and Q = 48 pounds. (For the non-mathmatically inclined, G = 4 pounds).


Gomez is a little camera floozy, as you can see by his following bit of mugging:

"Keeeeess me."



"Love me."



"Pet me."



"Feed me."



"You cannot reseeeest me."
This is actually one of his favorite positions... to lean up next to you and look backwards and up at you... a lot like those flying fox bats. I love feeding him grapes, because he looks just like them when he tries chewing one up.



Catching some rays.



Smiling.



Centerfold.


Now onto the cats:

Morticia (yes, I adopted her from animal control at the same time I got Gomez)



Meringue (she's actually snow white, not electric blue and green)



This is Logan, who loves to lay on his back everywhere, but is better known for his Gene Simmons impersonation...


and like Gene and other men, he loves a good butt scratch



and finally, this is Houdini, who is better known for his Peter Criss impersonation, apparently...



That's it... the 9 reasons why my damn furnace filter clogs with hair every couple of weeks, sending me into the place where my nightmares dwell. Next life... it's gonna be all Sphynx kitties and Mexican hairless (or more Prazsky's) pooches for me... and a house where the air filter is in an acceble closet or something. Sheesh! I still have no idea if the compressor is going to revive or not... it's been several hours and it's still not working.

But if it's still not working by tomorrow afternoon, you bet your ass I'm going to be bitching about it here! Consider that fair warning for the possible Tourette's tirade.