The Air-Conditioning (Or Lack Thereof) And The Amazingly Hot House

Posted: 4 August 2006 in bitter old woman, observations
Tags: ,

You’re hot too, I know. It hardly seems right for me to complain when you’re so hot, you’re fanning yourself with that little folded up piece of printer paper with your scribbled grocery list on it. In fact, I should probably go get you a cool cup of water and offer you a little parasol to sit under.


Our air conditioning works sporadically at best. Enough so that when we call the apartment complex to ask them to come and repair it (again) they greet us by name (again) and say they be over today (again). Of course, gentle reader, when they get here, it’s working! Miraculously, the AC heals itself before the repairmen come. Poof! Icy house. Poof! Crazy lesbians with cats complaining it’s “hot”. Most of the time though we, like this morning (again), wake up to hot air pouring from the vents. Or we come home from work. Or in form the garden. Or we just breathe. Voila, hot air.

The apartment complex isn’t worthless though. Apparently they believe us. At least, they’ve stopped thinking we’re crazy long enough to promise to replace it on Monday. In the meantime though, they said, “just keep flipping the switch”. By this, they mean the breaker switch for the heat pump that somehow makes it cool in the house. This does work, occasionally. Assuming of course, that we’re home to notice that the wind from the Sahara is gusting through the house.

So even while thunder is rolling over the house promising a second’s break from the heat, inside it’s a sweltering ninety million degrees Fahrenheit. Welcome. Can I get you a parasol?


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