The Heat Pump He Was Too Proud to Admit Was Broken
The first thing I saw when I opened the furnace closet was three capacitors lined up on the shelf like trophies, and a fourth one still in the box. It was the first real cold week of November, the kind where the wind comes across the wheat stubble and finds every gap in an old house. The house was a 1970s farmhouse a few miles out of town, added onto twice, with a gas furnace in a hall closet that had been there longer than some of my techs have been alive. The man who owned it was retired. Thirty years of fixing everything on that place himself. Pump house, tractor, wiring in the shop, the…
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