The furnace’s whir and thunderous whomp sometimes wake me up, but not often. That’s the burner kicking in.
I don’t have quick access to a thermometer giving me outside readings, but I know when it’s cold overnight from the number of whirs and whomps per hour.
Yes, I wake up a few times regardless, but it has nothing to do with the whirs and whomps; I like to wake up. I can’t give you an explanation as to why, but it bothers me naught. I want to keep in touch with things inside and outside my world of dreams, intermittently revisiting my reality.
The whomps correlate to incremental downward movements in the needle on the oil tank gauge, and I’m in tune with that, too, every time I walk through the furnace/utility room on my way to check on the empty apartment.
Sometimes, I glance on my way in and out, hoping the needle hasn’t moved, but more often than not, I find the cold weather draining it like it always has.
I look forward to sunny days that hit about thirty degrees. The sun through the windows reduces whomps and needle movement throughout the day. This week, those thirties come late in the day, but March is on her way.
My cursory checks are necessary, mainly to make sure nothing has frozen. On my walk through the apartment kitchen, I utilize old-school technology, listening for the slow, metallic tink, tink, tink as the dripping faucet taps out a cadence on the stainless steel sink bottom. I set the tink cadence about once a week. I adjust the faucet so the “drip drip” is present but slow. That takes a firm but gentle hand on the chrome upright single-handle faucet—an American Standard standard.
Once you master the feel of it, it’s easy to create a drip count that won’t run the well dry. This allows me to easily hear if the pipes defied me and permitted ice to form within the copper lifeline. That’s where proper thermostat modulation comes in—so far, I’ve mastered that, too.
The ever-present audible cues allow me to walk through the apartment before bed in the dark without turning on the lights. The morning walk is the same. Still dark, I pad through the place to ensure nothing is amiss.
To hear the house— the whirs, whomps, and the tinks keep me apprised of the condition of the systems that make it a home. That’s my job, to ensure that things don’t go bad.
It doesn’t pay well, but there is some satisfaction when the chief engineer can see, smell, and hear the changes, some of which are detrimental to the house’s overall health.
Today, the furnace man comes. Dave will again clean the burner. He’s more of a specialist, focusing on one system. I guess I’m just a general practitioner—charging less but no less critical.
Whirs, whomps, tinks, and glances; that’s where I come in.
Enjoy your Tuesday.
From the Jagged Edge of America, I remain,
TC
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