since my arrival in town it's been in the mid 70's everyday. not quite within my comfort level of precisely 54 degrees, but I was coping reasonably well. that is...until this week.
i watched the evening news as the smarmy weatherman joked, "it's gonna be a hot one this week". i rolled my eyes. southern california - hot - not exactly a news flash. then three days ago I came to the realization that he was not kidding around. i stepped outside to retrieve the mail and the air was instantly ripped from my lungs; it was as if i had stepped out onto the surface of mars. and it was only 9am.
all the locals were actually walking around the streets with umbrellas. men and women. there would be like this hardcore gang member with a wife-beater, tats running down his arms, bullet scars on his face, daintily holding a yellow umbrella over his head as he strolled to the market. it was like i had traveled back to 1854 and everyone should be wearing petticoats.
i finally buckled. i reached my breaking point. it brought me to my knees and i tried to cry, but the tears just evaporated the moment they left my tear duct.
so i set out to purchase an air conditioner from my local Wal-Mart. i found the one nearest to my house and literally ran towards the front entrance, passed out after several paces, and crawled the rest. once inside, i was informed that they just sold their last two. i might as well have been told I have two days to live. complete. devastation.
the guy laughed. like it was a joke to him. i lifted off my sunglasses and it took one look into my eyes for him to quickly realize that joke time was now over. i told him to get cozy with the phone because he was about to call every Wal-Mart in southern california (and southwestern nevada if need be) to locate an AC unit.
he found one. the corner of carson and paramount. he didn't even see me leave, all he was left with was the faint aroma of burned rubber somewhere in the distance.
i bought one (on sale, thank you very much) and put it in my trunk. i actually found myself humming on the way home. no radio, just hummin', lovin' the day, lovin' life. it was like being a child on christmas eve...and in reality i was going to have actual snow and frost come nighttime. should i buy tinsel? no, too extravagant. just keep going, you're almost home.
i breeze in the door and head straight to my room. I rip the cord on the venetian blinds and the sun is blaring directly into my retina. not for long, sir, not for long. i'll soon be rid of you forever. remembering to lift with my legs, i hoist the 800 lb. unit up and onto the window ledge. i pause. my heart actually stopped beating for six solid seconds. the window was too small. by one inch.
by God, nothing was going to stop this me from putting this piece of shit into the window. if i have to get a hammer and smash out every piece of glass, then so be it. the sun continued to relentlessly pulsate on my face, i've now broken into a sweat. in one swoop of rage, i clutch both sides of the sliding glass, white knuckled, and physically wretch it up and out of it's tracks. the surrounding aluminum siding is all mangled and bent. don't care.
one more window pane to go. i try the Hulk maneuver again. doesn't budge. i laugh aloud. not because i found the situation humorous, but because i was slowly slipping into insanity. this one has screws. i rummage through the junk drawer in the kitchen and stomp back into my room for round two. half of my body is hanging out the window with my toes clinging to my bed so i don't fall out. my palms are drenched in sweat and i'm having a hard time holding the screwdriver.
since the windows were installed during the Eisenhower administration, as I loosened the window sill and unscrewed the bolts, i'm getting flecks of asbestos and dead fire ants showering on and clinging to my red sweaty face. after twenty minutes of dropping the screwdriver, wiping my face and keeping my balance, i finally have a small pile of screws next to me. i pull on the window. nothing. at this point i'm so furious i'm beginning to see double. i take a seat. i just...I just need to breathe.
my roomate peeks his head around the corner and asks how it's coming along. i want to punch him in the mouth just for looking at me.
he then has the audacity to suggest i call the guy who installed the air conditioner in his room.
he's coming on Tuesday.
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