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~ Diabetes, Cancer Fighter, Father of Twins, Kayak Fishing, Woodcrafter, Lover of Life

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Tag Archives: Troubleshooting

Rolling With the Punches

09 Thursday Jul 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Life, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

adventure, appointments, Cutting Grass, Dead battery, Doctor Appointment, Family, gardening, Lawnmower, Life, Logestics, Nature, Parents, Troubleshooting, Wreck, writing, Yard Work

It’s been a few days since my last post, and it’s been a busy few days.

You never realize how much you depend on something until you suddenly don’t have it. Since my wife’s car is still with my daughter, we’re down to just one vehicle. That means choices have to be made, schedules have to be adjusted, and everything takes a little more planning. My daughter is still looking for another car, but she’s waiting on the insurance check before she can buy one.

On top of that, life doesn’t slow down. I’m going to physical therapy for my back twice a week, and my wife has therapy once a week. This coming week I also have two doctor’s appointments, and my wife has an appointment on the very same day. I think we’ve worked out the logistics, but if one appointment runs long, it could throw our whole schedule into chaos.

Today was my second physical therapy appointment. Unfortunately, I had already spent part of yesterday doing yard work, so I was pretty sore before I even walked through the door. After an hour of stretching and exercises, I’m even more sore now. The therapist warned me that I’d probably feel it for a couple of days because we stretched muscles that haven’t been worked like that in a while. My next appointment is Monday morning.

Tomorrow I’ll be heading back to my parents’ house to cut their grass again. I’ve already loaded my mower and weed trimmer onto the trailer. Last week I didn’t have time to do any trimming, so it’s really needed now. The biggest question is how my back is going to handle sitting on the mower for four hours. It may take me longer than usual because I’ll be stopping often to stretch and give my back a break. I’d rather take my time than pay for it later.

Speaking of my mower…

It’s about four years old. After I finished mowing my own yard yesterday, I drove it over to my outdoor hydrant to wash off all the grass clippings. I do that every single time I use it. I think it looks better when it’s clean, and maybe—just maybe—it’ll help it last a little longer.

When I finished spraying it off, I climbed back on, turned the key…and absolutely nothing happened.

For the next hour, I started troubleshooting everything I could think of. Eventually, I convinced myself the starter had gone bad. I began pricing replacement starters and quickly discovered they aren’t cheap. I finally found an aftermarket one that appeared to fit my mower, but something kept nagging at me.

“What if it’s not the starter?”

I’ve been down that road before—buying parts I didn’t actually need. I’d hate to spend the money, wait for the part to arrive, install it, and discover the mower still wouldn’t start.

So I called my dad.

He suggested I try one more thing before ordering a starter. I’m glad I listened.

Earlier in my troubleshooting, I had tried jump-starting the mower with my jump box, thinking the battery might be weak. It still wouldn’t even try to turn over. I checked the battery with my meter, and it showed what appeared to be enough voltage, so I ruled it out. Just to be safe, I put it on the charger while I went inside for lunch.

After lunch, I spent a few hours doing other things around the yard before checking it again.

Surprisingly, the battery voltage had actually dropped even lower than it was before I put it on the charger.

Well, there was my answer.

The starter was fine after all—it was the battery.

That meant another trip to the auto parts store for a new battery. While I’m certainly glad it wasn’t the starter, I still wasn’t thrilled about spending money on a battery that I hadn’t planned on buying.

Sometimes life has a funny way of piling things on all at once. Between juggling one vehicle, therapy appointments, doctor’s visits, back pain, cutting my parents’ grass, and now replacing a mower battery, it has definitely been one of those weeks.

Hopefully next week will be just a little less eventful…but somehow I doubt it.

When Plans Change, and Priorities Don’t

02 Saturday May 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Family, Life, Uncategorized

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Tags

Family, Fuse, health, Heating, HVAC, Life, Medication, mental-health, No AC, No Heat, Pain, Pain pill, Parents, Transformer, Troubleshooting, Wireing, writing

There comes a time in your life when you realize things don’t always go according to plan. Life has a way of stepping in, throwing a wrench into your day, and reminding you that some things matter more than whatever you had written on your to-do list.

I’m not sure if I’m making myself clear, but let me try to explain.

Growing up, my parents were the kind of people who would drop everything to help their kids. It didn’t matter what they had going on, how they felt, or what time it was—if we needed them, they were there.

My dad worked evening and late shifts most of my childhood, so I didn’t see him much during the week. He spent most of his days sleeping so he could work through the night. But even then, if I needed him, he showed up. The same goes for my mom. Between the two of them, there was never a moment when I felt like I had to figure things out alone.

Well… now it’s my turn.

Today wasn’t exactly a great day for me physically. When I woke up at 5:30 this morning, my back pain was already making its presence known. I rolled over and went back to sleep, hoping for some relief. By 9:30, I had no choice but to get up—and it hurt. A lot.

I had taken a pain pill the night before, which is probably the only reason I slept that long. After getting dressed and making some coffee, I sat down to start my morning devotion. That’s when my dad called.

His brand-new HVAC unit wasn’t working. The thermostat was completely blank. No heat, no air—nothing.

On a pain scale, I was sitting at a solid 8. I seriously considered taking another pain pill after breakfast, but I knew that if I did, I wouldn’t be in any condition to drive. And at that moment, my dad needed help.

So I skipped the pill.

I scarfed down a bowl of cereal, grabbed what tools I thought I’d need, and headed out the door. I called my wife as I pulled onto the main road to let her know what was going on.

When I got there, the first thing I checked was the thermostat… and of course, it was working perfectly. Lit up, responsive, doing exactly what it was supposed to do. I switched it to cool—worked fine. Switched it to heat—no problem.

You can’t fix what isn’t broken… at least not right away.

After some troubleshooting, I narrowed it down to a possible issue with the condensate pump—one of the few things that could interrupt power to the low-voltage system.

Sure enough, the pump was full of buildup from years of use. I disconnected it and took it to the sink to clean it out.

That’s when things got interesting.

As I was reconnecting the wiring, one of the low-voltage wires brushed against the unit… and sparks flew.

If there wasn’t a problem before, there definitely was now.

I had officially upgraded the situation from “simple service call” to “well… that escalated quickly.”

Now the real fun began—finding that fuse.

There was a resettable fuse on the transformer, but it hadn’t tripped. Which meant one thing: somewhere inside that unit was a tiny little 3-amp fuse… hiding… laughing… probably calling its fuse friends to come watch.

And let me tell you, whoever designed that unit clearly never had to actually work on it.

This thing was tucked behind the control board in a spot that required either:

  1. Much smaller hands
  2. A double-jointed wrist
  3. Or a strong prayer life

I tried reaching it from one angle—nope. Another angle—still nope. At one point, I’m pretty sure I invented two brand-new yoga poses that will never make it into a class.

After what felt like an episode of “HVAC: Mission Impossible”, I finally laid eyes on it.

Victory… briefly.

Because of course… I didn’t have a spare.

Naturally.

So off I went to the auto parts store, where I got to buy an entire assortment pack of fuses—ranging from “barely useful” to “I may never need this in my lifetime”—just to get that one tiny 3-amp fuse.

But hey, if anyone within a 5-mile radius blows a fuse anytime soon, I’m officially their guy.

Before putting the new fuse in, I double-checked everything to make sure I hadn’t accidentally created a bigger problem (because at this point, that felt like a real possibility).

Once I was confident, I slid the fuse into place…

And just like that—it worked.

Like nothing had ever happened.

By this point, my back was absolutely screaming. There was no time for small talk or hanging around. I packed up my tools, said my goodbyes, and made my way back home—straight to my recliner.

I did what needed to be done.

I pushed through the pain because that’s exactly what my parents would have done for me.

Funny how life comes full circle like that.

Tomorrow’s Bible study has been canceled since everyone’s out of town, so I’ll be taking that as a sign to rest.

And hopefully… just hopefully… the phone stays quiet.

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