A big thank you to all the kudos I received on the writing of my first column last week. Some were shocked at my seriousness when I am notorious for comic renditions of my daily adventures. I can be deep … but not this week.I got the heat bill at the daycare house in Sioux Falls the other day and thought it was a bit higher than normal, not just in price but in usage, so I figured it was time to check the filter in the furnace. I asked my helper to keep an eye on things, meaning the daycare, and headed down to the furnace room. The furnace filter sits in this horizontal slot between the cold air metal thing that I think is a duct (despite the fact that there is no duct tape on it) and the furnace itself. I pulled up this disgustingly dusty filter. When it stuck a little, I gave it a tug. The bottom piece of cardboard fell off and into the bottom of the cold air duct thingy. Well, my hand fit in the slot but it is 16 inches down to the bottom (if the filter is any gauge of the depth) and my arm is not 1 inch thick (again, in reference to the thickness of the filter) so I could not reach the elusive cardboard object. Lighting is not abundant in the furnace room, so I felt that the next brightest step would be to get a flashlight. Because I like to be prepared for the worst, I know right where a flashlight, a battery operated radio, candles and matches are at all times, so I hastened to grab my handy dandy flashlight. I got back down to the furnace and peeked in the slot just in time to realize that the next brightest step would have been to turn the furnace off instead of getting the flashlight because the furnace kicked on — sucking the cardboard into the fan and making a whistling slappety-slappety sound. I instantly thought I smelled smoke, but it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I stood there in a panic trying to clear my lungs of imaginary smoke and thinking of what to do next when it dawned on me that the front of the furnace comes off. I took off the top panel on the front only to discover that the fan is entombed in the bottom panel. Though it looked like a door (believe me, I tried everything to get it off), it would not budge. I decided the next best step would be to call my husband. Doug is a virtual encyclopedia of a man who has grown used to my mishaps over the years, and out of sheer resignation has become extremely tolerant and patient. He would know what to do. I came upstairs and dialed the phone. How annoying to get his voice mail on both lines, when I, my helper, nine of the sweetest kids you would ever want to meet and one very cool and expensive cat could turn to cinders at any moment. How hard is it to use a belt clip on a cell phone, for crying out loud!? That is another story.I decided the next step was to call a professional. I dialed the company that I have used in the past for furnace stuff in Sioux Falls. I gave my name, the details of the faulty filter failure, the faint smell of smoke (that I am sure now was a synapses overload in my brain) and described the fan whistling slappety noise to the all-knowing furnace guy, followed by the question, "What should I do?"The brilliant man replied with a hasty, "Turn it off."I became a bit flustered at my own stupidity but I played it cool and secretly hoped that he could hear the whistling and slappety-ing in the background. I mustered up my most matter-of-fact voice and said, "Well, of course." Like it would be obvious to anyone to do that first and that I would have already done the obvious. He came back with a chuckling, "You know, you should not buy those cheap filters."To which I sing-songed back, "Well, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? Can you please come and fix it?" He said, "OK." And I hung up. I then realized that I am not in Hills and my name is not enough for this guy to know where to come and fix my problem. The humiliation of having to call back was excruciating but this was a matter of life or ashes so I dialed him up with a casual, "Well, I guess you may need my address…"Thankfully a different guy with a knowing smirk came in about an hour, retrieved the offending cardboard, cleaned the burners, adjusted this and that and was on his merry way. I felt safe and warm and have learned not to buy cheap filters. The offending cardboard piece will hang on the bulletin board for a while as a reminder of this escapade. What’s done is done and I will close the gate behind me.Story ideas or comments can be e-mailed to Nancy at Nancy861@msn.com or please call me at 962-3411.