Cold air. Freezing, cold air, wrapped up on the couch with a blanket, cold air.
I won't see that happiness until December or January. This weekend we waited around the house for our "helpful" handymen to arrive to put in a 800 lb a/c that has been taking up half of the kitchen for the last 4 months, fix the fans through out the house and put the closet doors back on their tracks. Our apartment may look pretty on their outside, but apparently it's falling apart from the inside out. It's Nicole Richie- a disaster waiting to happen.
When the posse arrives, they are of course no help. They are only able to install the a/c out the back window- perfect. Just where I need cool air. The kitchen. They are not able to fix any of the fans - and apparently are for show and "look only" now I would understand if they were attractive, maybe. But they are standard ugly ceiling fans- not a museum masterpiece.
In a foolish attempt to get the air to go into the living room from the kitchen I put up curtains, so that the air wouldn't fill the stairwells going downstairs to the front door of our apartment or up the stairs through to the 2nd floor. Now while we have a theatre set up- to which each time C comes up or down the stairs you hear him say- in his very best Vegas voice things like... "Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing, Christoph Guarraa-chino!" My idea didn't help- the kitchen is cold, the hallway is not too hot and the living remains hot. And comes through the curtains as if on Broadway. Our hopes of sitting pretty and cold were dashed- so I became understandably cranky, if you ask me.
My dear husband, god bless his soul, took me to Home Depot to fix the situation. He bought me the best present he had ever thought to buy me- almost as beautiful as the bling I once sported on my once prettier hands... this present was not even close to being as dainty. An a/c to end all a/c. A portable a/c that doesn't need to be in a window- I thought it was an angel. Watching C try to bring it up the stairs, sweat literally pouring down his face- I thought he'd make a deal with the devil to get the box up into the apartment. He did, we found a spot for it- hooked it in and turned the sweet machine on.
Ah but all the money, blood seat and tears aren't going to buy happiness. And neither did C, after all of that I wish I had a happy ending to share.
It's still freaking hot, and we're probably spending our wee one's college tuition on electricity... no happy ending here.
- J "exposed brick, hard wood floors and laundry mean nothing with out central air" Guarro