I was in my home the other evening when I heard a car door slam.
I looked outside and saw the HVAC service van in my driveway.
I couldn’t figure out why he was at my house. I watched him as the HVAC technician tried peeking through the window. I was wondering if he had the wrong address and was worried that something had happened. It was early spring, but many people were still using their furnaces. Maybe the person who called the HVAC company had a gas furnace, and he worried the furnace had overcome the customer with carbon monoxide. All kinds of scenarios were going through my mind, but I was hesitant to open my door. Finally, the HVAC technician knocked on the door, but he stood slightly to the left of the peephole and I couldn’t quite see him. I left the safety chain on the door and stood to the side as I opened the door. The HVAC tech reached inside and told me he was cold. He wanted to come inside, turn up the thermostat and get warm. He was practically begging for me to let him in. It wasn’t until he yelled at me and called me Sis that I recognized the voice. I could have kicked him when I let him in the house. He hadn’t told me he had gone to HVAC school, and he hadn’t told me he would be dropping by the house. As much as I missed him, I still wanted to beat him senseless, but I wanted to give my brother, the HVAC tech, a hug before yelling at him.