Like: don’t friggin talk to me or you’ll get cussed out, I can’t even think straight- what did you just say?, Turn the fan up! Oh wait, it’s already on high, what the FORK AND SPOON hot.
True, I lived in the desert for 1 year and braved 117+ degree heat, but we had air.
Yes, I lived in Florida for 4 years (oh, Florida) and yeah, it’s hot and humid and sticky and nasty, but we had air.
Colorado, where it gets below zero in the friggin winter and then all of a flippin’ sudden it’s 90 degrees but feels like 900 at 5 pm and
what the hell?!
I mean if you want to discuss methods of cruel and unusual punishment, this is it.
The owner lives in Thailand and really? It gets hot there, you think he would value the importance of air conditioning (cause if you’re an American living in Thailand, you probably have a place with A/C).
I was told that air does not come standard in homes here and that I can just “open my windows” to let the air in cause that’s what everyone else does.
Every single window in this home is open.
Uhh everyone that enjoys being miserable.
WHO DOESN’T HAVE AIR?
I cannot comprehend anything like this.
I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. I just can’t.
It’s not uber, super breezy here to the point that if I open my window an amazing breeze comes in. We’re not lake front.
AND we live in a townhome so both of our adjacent walls are attached to someone else’s* house, so the opportunity for cross-ventilation or whatever that’s called is uhh zero to none.
So I walk around like a zombie because I think I’m so hot that I can’t even function.
My child is stripped bare, forced to eat her goldfish in her Pull-Ups (Sidebar: potty training has been going phenomenally this weekend, I can’t believe it!)
And for some stupid reason I thought turning on the oven to make lasagna in this heat was a good idea… Another example of how much I hate myself and enjoy doing things to make others laugh at me. So my kitchen setup looks like this:
A fan on my kitchen counter.
It has come to this.
I don’t know how we got here. The husband says the property manager told us there was air, the property manager says he said he’d try to get the owner to install air, I don’t remember because that was October and I don’t even remember what I did yesterday.
This will, though, forever be known as the summer of no air. And frankly, I don’t know if anyone in this family will make it out alive… err or at least without bruised egos because the temperature is way too high for me to act like a normally functioning human being.
*Someone please advise on the proper use of the apostrophe in else’s. I can’t think right.
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