Before I begin my tale of woe, let me just say that I know all of the stories that start with, "When I was a kid..." Soup from rocks, walking to school in six feet of snow (uphill both ways and nekkid), and the extreme weather without benefit of creature comforts. None of these hardship harangues can alter the fact that trying to sleep while it is ninety degrees IN YOUR HOUSE is an absolutely miserable experience.
Ninety-two, to be exact, but why quibble over a couple of degrees?
I came home from work early Friday morning to see that the thermostat read "81". Oh, crud. Bad sign. We keep it set to "78", and the AC kicks on when the in-house temperature gets to "79". The elevated reading meant that the AC compressor had died again, and the only thing that would be kicking was me. On the floor. In a tantrum.
Rather than pay killer overtime charges (nobody's open on the weekends anyway; it's not like we could get new parts until Monday), we opted to be tough and wait for a new work week. We spent most of the weekend sitting around in our underwear punctuated by trips to the store on the flimsiest possible pretexts.
"Gasp! Good grief! Do you realize we're almost out of... uh... gummed reinforcements?"
"Heavens! What if somebody wants to write a report? To the air condi... I mean, to the store at once!"
And so, with the help of several fans and some creative shopping, we made it to Monday. The repair dude arrived and was greeted by sweaty me and some fresh coffee. And the freakin' rain. Augh! Yeah, see, I'm all thrilled and stuff about the rain. It is now a mere seventy-odd degrees outside, allowing the indoor temps to drop to mid-eighties thanks to open windows. The yard foliage will now be substantially less crispy, and hairy pets can resume outdoor activities.
Rain also means no AC repair. Repair work is not like delivering the mail. Temperature extremes are one thing, but ain't nobody in their right mind gonna do electrical work outside under a big tree in a thunderstorm. Not even my awesome coffee is enough of an incentive to be stupid. So, we wait. I can pass the time pawning internal organs to raise the necessary funds, I guess. Or I could sit on the porch, enjoy the refreshing rain, and be glad that the repair dude won't be bringing a new unit through six feet of snow.
Uphill both ways and nekkid...