Air Conditioning is Life

Every single year our air conditioning unit for the upstairs has to be serviced. It’s like a rite of spring. First the daffodils, then the tulips, then my upstairs AC unit. We hit 85 degrees and that thing freezes up and we’re on a three day wait for service. I’m not sure if you know this, but you need air conditioning to survive in Georgia for about 7 months of the year.

You would think that I would be good with some heat because I grew up in the Northeast, lived in Canada for four years, and I hate cold, but I’m surprisingly fickle about temperature. Especially when I sleep, I need it to be working at approximately 68-72 degrees Fahrenheit. My least favorite way to sleep is lying in bed without any covers on while my Big Ass Fan swirls at the speed it takes a Black Hawk helicopter to get off the ground. I was not made for this. I was made for highly developed climate control.

Growing up in Massachusetts, we did not have central air conditioning. It does get pretty hot there most summers, and by summer, I mean 7-8 weeks in July and August. My Mom had screens on all the windows so she could keep them open all day and night. I remember mosquitoes the size of C-130s would hang on those screens like the little vampires they were, hoping to get in and zoom around my ears all night. We ran box fans and oscillating fans in every single room. Sometimes we would sleep in the basement or on the screened porch, but most of the time, you took a cold shower, pointed that fan right at your bed and slept like you lived in a turbine. Some time around 6 am, the day would reach its coolest point and you could pull a sheet up over you, and pretend it was chilly.

But that part of my life is supposed to be over. The Fan Era is gone. I live in the South, dadgummit, and I’mma have me some Air. Our house here has three units to cool it and I’ve been lobbying for a fourth for awhile now. There’s just a lot of open space and high ceilings. The house is 25 years old. She needs a turbo boost. Also, her mistress is a woman Of A Certain Age, and body temperature is not to be trifled with.

Only it appears, she may need more than a boost. The Fan Era has been extended. My Yankee Summer has returned. The service tech just left and we do not have a resolution.

So it looks like we’ll be taking cold showers and sleeping in a wind tunnel.

While we dream of Vampire Mosqiutos trying to kill us.

If the heat doesn’t kill us first.

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