Here’s another fine hassle to fart with this morning: check all the attic fans to see if they fall into this category. And thereby need to be replaced….
Arrrggghhhh! This is the kind of BS that makes you feel that renting is a good thing, as opposed to owning your place. If I lived in an apartment — or, hell, if some other poor sucker owned the Shack and just rented it to me — someone else would be trudging around the perimeter eyeballing the roof. In the heat. When they’d druther be taking a nap…
***
Far’s I can see, the Shack is not equipped with these things. Its attic is vented with heat-driven whirligig vents.
Well, that’s something, anyway.
Y’know…much as I do enjoy the Funny Farm, with all its space for the dog and its nifty swimming pool and its central location and its (mostly) cool neighbors, sometimes I think…I just don’t wanna live here. Sometimes I think I’druther live in a nice high-rise apartment, with an awesome view and an army of hired help doing battle with the maintenance.
Now: what next?
Mwa hah hah! Just you wait!