July 2, 2006


You don't realize how much you like air conditioning until you don't have it.

I don't really like air conditioning, much to my oldest son's chagrin. He would live in a meat locker if I'd let him. When I bought the house ten years ago, my Mom warned me that the air conditioning compressor thing was on it's last legs. She said I might get a year or two out of it, if I was lucky.

Well, I nursed it for ten years, until it finally conked out last week. I called my brother-in-law, who is wise in these ways, and told him to make the cold air blow again. He delivered a new compressor, but we have to find an HVAC person to hook it up. Until then, as Marc put it, 'our air conditioning is windows'. Fine by me; Marc slept with ice packs all around him last night, like some vital organ being transported for surgery.

A few years back, we had a swing out in the yard, the grown up kind with a canopy. When we resodded it had to go, and ever since I've been wanting one of those big rustic cedar ones. I decided yesterday, in the absence of air conditioning, it was the perfect day to get a swing.

After Brad wrangled it out of the box and assembled it (as Jackson ran blindly around the yard with the box on his head, two feet sticking out)I plunked my sorry arse down and pronounced it heaven. It's at the foot of the yard, positioned so that I can see the house, but not hear the complaints.

I now have a new way to run away from home. And with a little leg action, I also have air conditioning again.


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