The other day when I was painting the kitchen in anticipation of our big date to the tile store I was squished in the corner painting the wall behind the fridge when I yelled at S to move the fan so it wasn't pointing directly at me. (I'd like to say I asked nicely, but I'm sure S would chime in and correct me.) As it turns out S wasn't in the room and neither was the fan. The breeze making me cold while dressed in overalls over a sweater and fleece jacket, covered with a large long-sleeve t-shirt, was coming from our kitchen exhaust fan.
The exhaust fan is on the outside wall above the refrigerator, which we assume is where the stove used to be in the original kitchen.
While I finished painting, S measured the opening of the outdoor vent and cut a scrap piece of plywood to size. He used the staple gun to affix a piece of leftover insulation to the wood, screwed in a couple of eye hooks to the bottom and knotted a piece of nylon rope between the hooks as a handle. Then he called me outside to take some photos.