the Walnut Diary

Yesterday I arrived home from a day of basement renovations at my sister’s house to find a non-functioning oil furnace. My son Charlie immediately declared the thermostat dead and figured out how to change the batteries. The trouble with this particular implement is that all of the lettering on it is tiny and the same colour as the case. I can’t read it with my elderly eyes. It took him a fair length of time to find the screw holding it together, replace the batteries, and realize that the thing was still dead.

A call to Bangs Fuels resulted in a long time on hold and a surly and unco-operative call service. Things improved considerably once the serviceman received my message, though. With young kids playing in the background, the guy identified me in his mind as the brick and stone house on the hill with a gas furnace and an oil unit. He has worked on both over the years. We talked our way through the symptoms and he eventually agreed with Charlie that the thermostat was dead: the electronic screen should light up with fresh batteries even if it is not connected to the furnace.

So Charlie twisted the two 24 volt A.C. signal wires together and the furnace came on. I asked the service guy if I could put a toggle switch on it for manual operation. He said that would work, if I wanted to do that. Charlie brought me a toggle switch, but then rethought it: “A 12v automotive toggle switch is for DC current. They can arc when engaging. Instead he brought me a wall switch, then collected his family and headed for their Ottawa house for the weekend.

How do I temporarily attach a two-pole wall switch to a pair of ancient wires protruding an inch from a plaster wall? Time to stop and think. Instead I chose to use the master switch for the furnace mounted in the basement stairwell. Leave the thermostat wires twisted together, walk down two steps into the basement, and flick the switch with a toe. Immediately the furnace will start making noises, and ten minutes later the fan will cut in with heat for the house.

While vexing, the exercise of nursing an ailing furnace was a welcome release from the less easily handled crises of the week. Yesterday’s discovery that the ubiquitous surgical mask is quite excellent for handling old fibreglass insulation somewhat offset my realization that the standard Arrow T-50 construction stapler is now too stiffly sprung for my old wrists, and that the Covid-19 lockdown has intensified in the face of the growing threat of local infections.

Rosebridge Manor, the long term care home where my mother is a resident, reports a round of tests for everyone, and still no infections. During a pandemic there are some advantages to a rural location with a local work force and highly motivated management.

Professor Roz had presented a paper at a large virtual conference on Wednesday. I asked her how it had gone. She had a mixed reaction. “I was glad to see and talk to all of those people, but my body was disappointed that they weren’t really there.”