An Air Conditioning Enforcer’s creed:
This is my Lasergrip infrared thermometer. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My laser and I know that what counts in forced-air ventilation is not the thermodynamics, the routine maintenance, nor the bills that we pay, but the on-demand delivery of cool air itself.
My laser and I are the defenders of our central air system. We are the masters of energy efficiency. We are the saviors of comfort.
With my lasergrip I can tell you with pinpoint accuracy the temperature of any surface in my home, the operating efficiency of each individual vent, and the approximate temperature of various spots on unsuspecting visitors’ anatomy.
I patrol my home often with care to ensure my system is working properly. When I am absent, my Nest thermostat is in charge. I have learned it as a brother. I know its weaknesses, its strengths, its parts, its accessories, and controls. It does not ask questions. It knows only orders and takes them only from me.
We are in constant contact through my iPhone app. I adjust the instructions based on anticipated arrival, outdoor humidity, and the seasonal trajectory of the sun.
With my Lasergrip infrared thermometer and Nest thermostat, I swear this creed: We are the defenders of my home’s temperature. We are the masters of weather fluctuations. We are the saviors of comfort.
So be it, until contentment is mine and there is no temperature fluctuation, but stability!
If there’s one thing I’m particularly grateful for this time of year, it’s air conditioning. This was made especially clear to me a few weeks ago when my car’s AC broke while I was over four hours away from home on a 95-degree day.
That drive home felt like one of the longest moments of my life, which concluded (after a week of driving around that way) with the fastest credit card swipe of my life.
I haven’t always been so soft.
The first car I ever drove didn’t even have the option of air conditioning, and I was thrilled to rattle around in it until my brother broke an axle racing through a grocery store parking lot and the car shot a toxic green mist in my face.
We rarely used air conditioning in my house when I was a kid. It was only used at night to help you sleep and only available in Mom’s bedroom. My two brothers and I would pile in there with her on hot, sticky nights.
We got a second window unit somewhere after the age of “awkward to share a bed with your Mom and brothers” but before the age of “responsible enough to regulate temperature controls.”
I’ve written my name in the frost on a bedroom window on many an early summer morn and worried of frostbite in August more than any other child in New England’s long and storied history. Like making a curious teenager smoke the entire pack, that experience actually turned me off of air conditioning for most of my formative years.
My college dorm was filled with 120 hot and sweaty teenagers, which today sounds like hell to me, but back then was heaven on earth. Our only temperature control was the window or a fan, and we refreshed ourselves with ice cold drinks by the case-full.
The constantly open windows and doors gave the space a real community vibe. I went back a year ago and every window had an AC unit in it, filling the quad with a thousand hums and drowning out its soul.
Air conditioning has a desensitizing nature separating us from the world socially and psychologically. Like any numbing product, it has addictive properties which firmly took root in me during my three years living in Texas.
Despite escaping that environment (our first year in Austin shattered their previous record of 69 100 degree days with an astonishing 90 days) it is hard to imagine a life without the comforts with which we’ve grown accustomed.
So I’ve become the enforcer making sure our comfort is done efficiently and equitably. Our Nest thermostat allows me to program schedules that keep our home at the right temperature at the right time. I chase their green-leaf rewards with vigor taking pride in my moments of efficiency, but at the end of the day I always defer to comfort.
I don’t have old data to compare against to prove savings, but returning travel-weary from a week-long vacation to a pre-cooled home with no concerns that the system has been running while I’m away is value enough for me.
I check in periodically from work, vacation, or longer-than-expected daytime outings with the utmost confidence that I can coolly say to my Nest, “Go ahead, make my day.”
And it will. I’ve got the gun to prove it.
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