Now 82 degrees may not that sound that hot...if you're my Aunt Marie, who purposely keeps her thermostat hovering at triple digits. However we keep our house at a nice cool, delightful 69 degrees. 70 if we're feeling conservative...so 82 feels like, well basically we now know what it feels like to be a cinnamon roll in the oven. Not only are we burning alive we're also getting very sticky...
Since we've already had to have the air conditioner fixed once this summer I was reluctant to spend any more money on it. Also because I am cheap and a pro-champion procrastinator I suggested to Craig that maybe we should just try to make do with fans for the rest of the summer and worry about this problem next spring.
He looked at me in disbelief and was like, "no, we need to get it fixed and get it fixed now. You're horrible to live with when you're hot." "I'm not that bad..." I just...I don't know, I think my body already maybe runs a little hotter than the average person's. Maybe it's all my extra padding, maybe that serves as insulation. (See post on why I'm the fat kid).
So I'm like "maybe I get a little grumpy when it's hot." And Craig was like "grumpy does not begin to cover it. I'm looking for words like unbearable, inconsolable, irate...Seriously we need to get it fixed this week...I'm calling the guy tomorrow. Because if not I'm afraid you'll die. I'm afraid you'll literally die and that you'll purposely take me with you."
I don't know that the heat would actually drive me to kill but if you find us in a pile of ashes know this; we spontaneously combusted and accidentally cremated ourselves. And also it is my last wish that you, as my friend or family, must divide the ashes evenly and each wear a portion of ME in a vile around your neck. Everyday. Forever. And remember I like to stay cool...
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