somewhere pretty

Somewhere Pretty

I'm starting to get irritated with Frank's. Because it won't stop being burned down.

Frank's is the heating and air conditioning place. Frank's people come here to sweep the chimney. Service the swamp cooler. Etc. Once a Frank's guy sold me some wood. It was good stuff. I burned it nights, during the maroonment. Kept us all here from becoming icicles.

When the PG&E guys returned the gas, they advised not firing up the gas wall heater, as, from age and wear, there had developed a crack in the chamber, which would pump out carbon monoxide, whenever it whooshed on. That explained why, before the fire, the carbon monoxide alarm would sometimes go off. But not for long. So I ignored it. Now, though, I decided I didn't want to become the guy who survived the fire, only to carbon monoxide himself. So I called the owner, Art, told him of this latest manifestation of the Second Law Of Thermodyanics, and he and I agreed we would call Frank's. They would repair it. But then we remembered Frank's burned. There is no Frank's. Not any more.