Why Is Air Conditioning So Important?

Because it’s 112 degrees today. And you can’t sleep without it. And your clothes stick to your body.

Now I understand it’s hot in other places around the country. I have friends in the Deep South who swear it’s raining inside their house, a few desperate souls from Iowa who claim they’ve lost the ability to lift their arms because the air is too heavy and another group of New Yorkers who are baking like pizzas in their oven apartments. But I’ll match an Arizona heat wave against any of theirs. We have triple digits (with two of the numbers being eleven) and the monsoon season has started. That means high humidity with the threat of rain which doesn’t actually happen. We get dust storms.

Dirt flies everywhere, trees fall down, coyotes howl and Maury complains the storm has ruined a perfectly good golf day. I, on the other hand, recognize in the sweat puddle at my feet that our air conditioning is ineffectual. So, under duress, Maury calls Jiffy, “We Fix Your AC as Well as Your Car Mechanic Would” to give us an estimate. Fric and Frac, two good looking kids with short blond crew-cuts wearing Jiffy polo shirts that don’t cover all the tattoos on their arms, show up and give us an estimate.

Only ten thousand dollars to replace both units today. A bargain. Oh, you could wait or fix them piecemeal but in reality when they find your body in the morning, you’ll just be a fading puddle in the middle of the bed. Want to try to get other estimates or negotiate? Probably not because unless you’re prepared to climb on the roof utilizing a crane and multiple ladders, it’s hopeless. They’ve got you.

So just know that if it’s warm at your place we have two new air conditioners with ten year warranties (I should live so long as my mother would say) in case you want to stop by and have a cold beer.

Some Things Never Change

Maury is my hero. I adore him. He is the most interesting, hoarder of obscure facts of any man I know.

But that doesn’t mitigate the fact the man still has ADD. We have returned from vacation to look for car keys (doesn’t everyone leave them in the garage for the car thieves), credit cards (somewhere in his brain he though it logical to leave the pertinent ones at home underneath his sweat socks in the back of a drawer), and pass codes to all our accounts (which are not really necessary unless you want to withdraw money for food and air conditioning).

Yesterday, to make sure that I was completely aware that we were indeed home in sunny Arizona and not on the island of my dreams, he went out to bring in the newspaper ( so I could get excited about the wonderful cast of characters on our state) and left the front door wide open. Then he left for the office while I was upstairs unaware that our front door was inviting in the outside world and leaking out what little AC might be oozing out our vents.

Don’t worry. It was only open for two hours. Just long enough for me to disappear into a puddle.

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