I felt extremely calm yesterday afternoon after changing the filter on my Cool Cat air conditioner. Once I was done, I practically floated though the rest of the day. If I can do this, what can stop me?
The project on my 2007 Dutchmen T@B had been looming over me for a couple of weeks because of fear and resentments. But the stakes were high.
Down here in the Deep South, an air conditioner is the number one camping necessity. I almost laugh out loud when fellow T@bbers announce they are taking the Cool Cat out of their trailer and replacing it with a cabinet. A cabinet!
I’d give up the bed or the stove before I’d give up the air conditioner, which is desperately needed from April to November. So that’s potentially 9 months out of the year where camping would be impossible without an air conditioner. And I am not a 3-month camper. I’m a year-rounder, thank you very much (which is why I’ve never lived where there is snow. which I am deathly afraid of, but that’s another story).
And so it is with this significance that two weeks ago I braved a look at the Cool Cat’s filter, which I could see through the grill. It was grimy and dirty. Was it the original filter from 2008? In the three winter months I’ve had The Tiny, I’ve tried out the air conditioner a couple of times and found out it is a BEAST of frosty air. So I want to save and protect it.
I studied various FB pages and forums to figure out how changing the filter is done. I noticed there is a slot on the left side of the grill. Apparently some T@B folks simply pull the filter out through the slot, wash the filter, and put it back. Easy peazy.
So I tentatively pulled on the plastic netting I could see in the slot.
As I pulled, the filter attached to the netting began to crumble into dirty lumps and dust.
I ended up digging it out with a spoon though the slots in the grill, letting the droppings fall onto a dish towel.
I was afraid as I pulled out the netting because I didn’t know what was on the other end of the net. Was there some kind of special configuration which, if it was pulled out and broken, would render the Cool Cat irrevocably ruined? Would I then have to take the unit out and replace it with a small room air conditioner that was an anemic substitution, cooling the floor of the trailer and little more, leaving me with cold ankles and a hot head? Would I later learn that “everyone knows” you don’t pull that netting all the way out? That everyone knows you only pull it out part way and if you pull it out all the way you break the whole darn thing?
I realize I suffer from fear of “what everyone knows but me.” It’s like there was a class one day where everyone found out about everything you’re supposed to know, and when my alarm went off that morning, I thought I hit the snooze button but really had turned the whole thing off, and when I woke up it already past noon and hot outside and too late to make the class. And so I went through the rest of my life not knowing what everyone else knows.
I felt this fear 9 years ago when I moved from California to New Orleans. I was walking along River Road one day and wanted to walk up on the earthen levee and see the Mighty Mississippi River. But I had two fears. Was it legal to walk on the levee? And did alligators live in the tall grasses on the levee? I didn’t want to get my foot bit off and have people say that “everyone knows” alligators live in the grasses on the levee. Notice it wasn’t the prospect of getting my foot bit off that bothered me; it was what everyone would say about what everyone knows.
So it was with this fear that I pulled the plastic netting that the crumbling filter was attached to. Inch by inch, dreading my fate, I slowly pulled it through the slot. As the final millimeter came out, the demons vanished. There was no life-threatening, game-changing, apocalyptic configuration on the end. It was a rectangular piece of plastic net. That’s all. Nothing more. A dark cloud vanished.
I retained the plastic netting and wrapped the solid toxic sludge that was the old filter into the dishtowel and dumped it in the trash can. My plan was to buy a new filter, perhaps a 3-pack from Amazon. But doing more research, I realized there is no such a thing. Or is there? What does everyone know but me? One person on a FB page said they went to a home improvement store and bought filer material and cut their own. So I decided that is what I would do.
So finding, buying, cutting, and installing the new filter material before my mid-March campout were still in front of me. But another issue loomed.
I still had to deal with my resentment about those weird screw heads in the Cool Cat cover. They are neither straight head or Phillips head. They are some kind of square head. And frankly, unless they are a screw I can remove using something from my kitchen junk drawer, I just don’t want to deal with it. To me, anyone who uses any kind of screw that’s not straight head or Phillips head is just arrogant and self-important. (I have since found out they are from Canada and I’m not reformed and I love them.)
But, I had to find, buy, and cut the filter material first. So I decided to set this massive problem aside for the moment.
Just before I went to Lowe’s, I realize I’d already forgotten how thick the filter material should be. I had thrown it all in the trash can so I couldn’t easily check it out. But I have a habit of forgetting things in the material world, like how to get back from the restroom to my table at a restaurant and I always end up in the kitchen. I imagined myself going to Lowe’s and asking in the filter department about some filter material that was thin and some young man would tell me that 4 in. thick is the norm and I’d start to doubt myself and I’d come home with something totally wrong.
So the only solution was to go dig a piece of the filter that had not disintegrated out of the trash with a grabber (which I’m certain you are so delighted to see here in such exquisite detail), and take a picture so I had proof when self doubts overcame me.
At Lowe’s, I got confused and asked for the insulation department. Walking down the aisle with the rolls and batts, I thought: what the heck? You might think I do stupid stuff so I have funny stories to tell. Far from it. This is the best I can do. And I’m knocking it out of the park because I don’t give up. I persist.
Finally, I realized I wanted the filter aisle, which was Aisle 36, and according to the young man there, the same one I had pictured in my mind, there was only one product that I could cut for my own use.
It was twice as thick as I wanted, but I grabbed it. Probably everyone knows where the thin filter material can be found, but oh well. I think I’m getting tired of my own drama.
Back home, when the appointed time came, I laid the plastic net on top of the insulation and cut out the proper size with scissors. I’m happy and proud to say that I accomplished this task with no drama, no trauma, just good old fashioned getting ‘er done.
It was time to head out to the trailer to take off the Cool Cat cover and face the self-important screw heads. I grabbed the materials and my tools.
I should add here that I am a very blessed person. A friend had previously gifted me with a Bosch impact driver, and a set of hard metal things that might be sockets and wrenches and stuff. I’ve only used one little Phillips head screw thingy, so I’m not quite sure what all is in there. But it’s heavy. That much I know.
Opening the box, I saw all kinds of sizes of screw head pieces (I’m sure there’s a formal name for these, which I’ll no doubt be learning soon). I took out one marked PH and held that up to the square screw heads on the Cool Cat. It was not a good fit. I finally realized that PH probably stands for Phillips. I saw some other square-looking pieces. I took one out, held it up to the Cool Cat, and found it fit perfectly.
I see an “S” next to the square screw head attachments in the tool box. Does it mean “square?” I find myself resisting knowing what they are called. I have had such a resent toward these things for so long. It’s much easier to resent something or someone or some group if I know nothing about it or them. These things probably have a long and noble history. Once I find that out, my resentment will have to lift, and then who will I be? Where will I get my energy? To move forward and grow into a woman who can maintain a 2007 T@B trailer, I may have to risk it.
Using the right attachment on my awesome little Bosch driver, I removed the cover. Victory! Inside, it was dirty and dusty all around, but luckily I had brought out some cleaning wipes and cleaned it up. My “everyone knows” syndrome flared up and I wondered if the cleaning agents in these wipes might be the very thing that causes T@Bs to melt right into the ground, leaving just a dark smudge on the concrete. As it so happens, that didn’t happen.
Things went pretty smoothly from there on. I couldn’t recall if the plastic netting should face the Cool Cat or if the insulation should face it? Rather than risk sudden death, I came back in the house and studied pictures I had taken of the assembly as it was coming out. Yep, the plastic netting should face the Cool Cat.
I tucked the netting/filter material tucked properly into the back side of the cover, and got all the screws back in.
The completed project with the new blue filter is a thing of astonishing beauty.
I can’t stop looking at it. I’ve not only saved the Cool Cat from environmental degradation, but I’ve potentially saved my life and my dog’s life as spring moves into summer and blistering hot, life-threatening humidity. I have saved the world!
Likely after this essay is published, the good people in my T@B community will offer their congratulations, as well as their kind and gentle suggestions for how I or others can do it better next time.
Yes, I was absent on that day they taught everybody about everything. But guess what? School is still in session, and I’m making up for it now.