Okay, so I’m a bit odd.
It was hot and sticky the past coupla’ days—just about hottily-sticky enough for me to have hoisted my a/c into the window and cranked her on.
Just about, but not quite.
I know, I hate summer, hate the heat, the stickiness, the sun, and, by August, everything, so you’d think that I’d have that a/c humming whenever the temp got heatward of 85.
Except, of course, I don’t like a/c. I’m glad for it, sure—nothing like standing on a stinky-hot subway platform to make one glad for the air-cool of the car—but my appreciation is merely dutiful, and, frankly, even a little resentful:
If it weren’t so fucking hot I wouldn’t need the damned thing.
Anyway, since I wasn’t thinking about how miserable I was every second of the day and I was able to sleep well enough with the window fan, I figured I could go without.
That’s a reasonable reason for laying off.
The real reason? Thunderstorms were to blow through, dropping the temp into the seventies.
When I lived in Minneapolis (and Montréal and Somerville), I didn’t have air conditioning, and would thus suffer (not at all stoically) thru the summer muck. The only relief came with the storms.
Wind! Thunder! Lightening! Cats and dogs and ponies!
It was glorious.
I didn’t much like summer back in the day, but it’s only been the past few years that I’ve really come to hate it.
So while it may make no sense to a normal person for me to delay installing the one device which might allay my misery, I did it for the right reason.
I did it for the glory.
AbsurdBeats 