Conditioned Air

So, our air conditioner on the second floor went out yesterday, and I went totally ape shit.  Completely bonkers.  Unreasonably distressed.

Because, I grew up with an attic bedroom with one window and hideous humidity all summer long.

Because I lived in Florida for four freaking years without air conditioning, because I couldn’t afford to buy a window unit and could only afford crappy apartments without central air.

Because I lived in a tiny little garage-sized house in Nowhere, Kentucky, when I first got sober, without air conditioning, because I couldn’t afford to pay the additional expense on my monthly electric bill.

Because I lived in a tiny house in the city with a guy for years and he refused to use air conditioning because I have no idea why he was just sort of an idiot that way.  I finally insisted and he broke down and let me buy a tiny little window unit that wasn’t big enough to cool the bedroom much less the entire house.  And for some sick reason, I was ok with that because at that time I thought relationships were all about compromising, but he thought relationships were all about compromising so long as he always got his way.

Because I absolutely hate humidity.  Heat I don’t mind, but in Nowhere, Kentucky, there is always oppressive humidity along with the heat, and after 50+ years of it, I think I’m mature enough and successful enough that I don’t have to put up with that shit anymore.

So we tried everything obvious to see if we could get the damn thing working ourselves, including turning it off and then turning it back on, because that works with computers so of course it should work with a 30 year old HVAC unit.  And nothing really helped.

So now I have a fan going full blast upstairs to cool the space, and windows open even though I hate open windows in general this time of year because every breath one takes of the great outdoors is full of pollen and seeds and mold and coal dust and Christ knows what and who the hell can breathe in all that muck.

Tomorrow, I call and attempt to find a repair guy who can come out to the house tomorrow night and fix the damn thing.  That’s harder than it sounds, here in Nowhere, Kentucky, because service personnel here still think you should take off work a full day and wait around for them to show up sometime maybe next week, when you need it done today dammit or not at all, and they only work from 10 am until 5 pm and never on the weekends.  But I have a list of telephone numbers to call, and a great deal of good karma when it comes to semi-emergency situations like this that get me far too upset and then usually turn out to be an easy thing to fix.

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