Sweaty Christmas

Windows wide open, screen doors in place. I sit near the porch door, in hopes of catching some tiny drift of a breeze. The air conditioner is broken. The tradewinds are gone.

It. Is. HOT.

The Air Conditioner chose the most humid week of the year to break. About a month ago, it started making a dreadful rattling sound off and on. I, of course, called maintenance. When they came out, the crochety old thing was having a good spell, and the technician told me there was nothing he could do about it unless he heard the noise himself. I’m 99% sure he thought I was crazy.

Well, look who’s laughing now?!

Nobody, actually.

I would be, but it’s our loss, because the a/c broke on Sunday, at the beginning of this lets-see-if-we-can-make-you-wish-you-were-in-icy-mainland-weather-this-December weather spell. Of course, I put another call in to maintenance. The first time I called, when it was still working, just making the noise, they had a technician out the very next day. This time, with the a/c completely out of commission, they can’t get anybody out here until the end of the week. Just the TEENIEST bit ironic. And by TEENIEST I don’t actually mean teeniest at all. Insert sarcasm font now.

If it were just me I wouldn’t mind. I would spend the whole day out at the library or the pool and be perfectly happy. I do worry about Sophia, though. We can’t stay out all day because if she doesn’t get her naps, she is a very unhappy baby. So, we stay in about as much as we stay out, the poor child sweats, and I’m paranoid that she’s going to get dehydrated. Also, she’s not napping well with the heat, which is making everybody grumpy.


When the a/c is fixed I’m going to turn it down to 68 degrees and sit inside with a blanket and hot chocolate, just to compensate for this craziness.


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