TheBanyanTree: Buying the air conditioner

[Indiglow]

Ah, Monique!  Sistah!  Love the telling of "the way things are!"

Jana
--- On Sun, 7/29/12, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com> wrote:


From: Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>
Subject: TheBanyanTree: Buying the air conditioner
To: "Banyan Tree" <thebanyantree at lists.remsset.com>
Date: Sunday, July 29, 2012, 9:17 PM


Several years ago, in the hottest part of the summer, we were invited to an
annual BBQ in Corbett, which is east of Portland, and about a 45 minute
drive from us. At the time, we had my old Ford, which had spotty air
conditioning, and no air conditioning at home.

I do not like heat. I left California and moved to Seattle precisely
because I do not like heat. In the summer I alternate between nausea, hay
fever, and general irritation. I do not sleep well in the heat, or anything
else. I tend to fall into a restless, unsatisfying, and exhausting sleep
during the day, the kind where you wake up and wonder why you bothered,
because you feel even worse than when you started.

But we were persevering! I am tough! And it's not as if we live somewhere
where it gets really hot, though temps in the 90s were common that August.
The BBQ was entertaining, especially since many of the attendees were in
the mental health field and were vociferously complaining about their
supervisors. When asked what he did, Andrew would reply, "I'm a supervisor
at (blank)." Many of his employees have a background in counseling, mental
health, etc., though they call them coaches. But it was awkward with all
the free floating enmity towards supervisors. But amusing. But it was a hot
hot day, because it was the middle of August, and I wandered between the
shaded back yard and the interior of the house, looking for a place where I
could escape the heat.

To no avail.

None.

Once we'd absorbed enough hamburgers and supervisor antagonism we headed
home, and of course the Ford's air conditioning was being difficult.
There's a wire somewhere behind the dash that is loose, and despite several
attempts to fix it, the availability of air conditioning was dependent upon
how the car was feeling, and whether a good thump on it was enough to
reconnect the wires so that it would work.

As we drove along the heavily shaded road back to Portland my eyes started
watering, and the car was hot, and I could see people hanging out in the
river to our left. I was miserable. Hot, irritated, and not my usual
charming self. "That's it," I said, "We have to get an air conditioner.
Something."

"When?" Andrew asked, though I thought that was obvious.

"Now. Right now. Where's the nearest Home Depot?"

He didn't quite believe me, but I was as serious as a heart attack, which
are apparently quite serious things.

The nearest Home Depot was somewhat on our way home, not that it mattered,
and when we got there the sun was still determined to drive me insane. We
walked across the melting pavement, my eyes watering even more, my vision
blurred, and I was so weak from the sun.

By the time we found the air conditioners I couldn't see a thing, so bad
were my eyes. Just gushing water. We looked at the air conditioners, and I
said, "We're getting that one right there," pointing to a big brown box.

"I'm not sure we can get it in the car," Andrew said, and I said, "I don't
care, we're getting it."

"Maybe we should look around some more," he said.

"No, no, we're getting it now. We're taking it home. I'm going to sleep
tonight."

He went looking for either a) someone to help us, or b) a private area to
call the men in white coats to come take me away. I waited by the air
conditioners, still unable to see much of anything, my eyes half closed. I
couldn't wander off on my own because I'd run into something. Anything.

At least he returned with a salesman, and he asked the salesman, "When
could this be delivered?"

"End of next week," the nice salesman said.

"No way," I said, "we're taking it home."

It was a big brown box, and I was taking it home or I was going to die
trying.

We bought the air conditioner, but hey, we were in Oregon, so no sales tax!
Andrew brought the car around to the front, and a couple of guys put the
thing on a cart and took it out to the car.

It didn't fit in the trunk, of course, because that would have made it easy.

The Ford is a two door, so getting giant boxes into the back isn't the most
fun thing I've done, but I wasn't doing anything because I was hot and I
still couldn't see. It was important to not turn the big box on its side,
because then it would have to sit for 24 hours before being turned on, and
I was having none of that. There was much struggling and forcing in of the
giant box, and by the time they were done the passenger side seat was
pushed forward so far that I had to spend the rest of the trip home with my
knees in my face. I didn't care. It's not as if I could have been made more
uncomfortable anyway.

We drove the thing home, and then came the easing out of the big box from
the car, which had far less to do with easing and far more to do with my
temper tantrum.

I get really grumpy in the heat.

But we got it out, and we pushed the box up the stairs, because we'd
decided that the master suite would be the best place for it. It's large,
the master suite, and it includes the bathroom, and it has an outside
window we could use for the vent of the air conditioner, and it has double
wide doors that we can close to keep the cool air in. That, and it's where
I sleep. Should my office down the hall become unbearably hot, which is
does in the afternoon in the summer, I can just pack up a few things and my
laptop and hide out in the bedroom in the air.

Andrew did the window adjustments, and at least it was set up and ready to
go.

We turned on the switch, and cool air began floating out, signaling the end
of my tenure in hell. I can now camp out in my bedroom for a long time --
it's spacious and has everything I need.

But if we have to get a mattress, I'm waiting until someone can bring it to
me.

Monique