Last month, during our first snowstorm, our furnace didn't turn on. Fritz and I both cringed thinking it might be related to the stones in the venting pipes incident this summer. We sighed a sigh of relief that our house is still under warranty. And we called the furnace guys. They came, discovered a very dirty furnace and a broken switch. Seems the drywalling had coated the inside of the furnace white. Yuck. I'm sure that's real good for our lungs. They fixed the switch and rescheduled to come back later to clean out the furnace. (Whew! Thank goodness we were able to vacuum all those stones out! Blame the construction crew whenever possible, right?)
Which brings us to last week. I was sitting at the table while the furnace man cleaned the furnace. He was talking to himself. Because the vent is right next to the table, I could hear it all.
"Filthy! This is a mess."
"Yup, yup gotta clean that part, too."
He'd come up the basement stairs and mosey out to his truck for another part. And back downstairs.
"There's a lot of something in here."
"What the ---?"
"Straws. Bendy straws." Low whistle.
"LOOK at these straws."
"Somebody had fun putting these straws down the vent."
[ahhh...sorry, image removed...and it was a cutie]Yup, but you know...we could also blame the mother who gave the boys bendy straws as toys in the first place. Amazing, brilliant mother with creative boys.