So last winter we had those space pack thingies installed--the ones that bring the joys of CENTRAL AIR CONDITIONING to very old houses like mine, which was built when you sat and sweltered through two or three months of brutal Chicago summers. And grilled or ate cold food. And kept the shades drawn. And guzzled iced tea. And used window units and fans. And suffered.
Speaking of suffering, having holes punched in the ceiling and having to empty all the closets so that big silver tubes can be run up and down from the attic and the condenser and all that ... well, what a pain. My closets are still non-functional. I can't find ANYTHING.
And then listing our five, count 'em, five window air conditioning units on Freecycle and having random strangers come and pick them up--that was a pain, too. (Why is it that the people who want free air conditioners are wee little ladies who weigh maybe 85 pounds? And therefore, I end up helping them move the window units into their cars? And worry that I'll throw out my back? I mean, come on, tiny little ladies! It's an air conditioner! Bring some muscle with you!)
Well, anyway, today was pay off time. The guy came to start up our new CENTRAL AIR CONDITIONING. And he showed up just in time, because we had one of our 90 degree Fahrenheit/80 percent humidity days on Sunday, and it was brutal.
So here I sit, in lovely air-conditioned comfort.
Cool as the proverbial cucumber.
This gives a whole new meaning to the word "summer." The dread is gone. I can already feel all the brain cells atrophying that contain knowledge like "in the afternoon, close the shades on the southern side of the house."
I'm channeling Scarlett O'Hara; As God is my witness, I may never go sweaty again.
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