I’m up at 7am.
On a Saturday.
Especially when you consider that the reason I’m awake at 7am on a Saturday is because the air conditioning went out. Distraught and dismayed, convinced this would literally cost me my trip to Blogher, I wallowed, pitiful and well, wallowing. “Why me universe? Why?”
You know what air conditioning repair dudes go for these days? Me neither, cause I’m afraid to ask. The AC going out in July has long-been my summer-fear. I don’t do muggy, I don’t do sweaty, I don’t do no-AC. I’m a whimp, a whiner, a pain in the ass if you will. This comes as little surprise to those of you who know me.
Doug got up early to “take a look”. Doubtful in his mad HVAC skillz (*IS* HVAC air conditioning? Whatever, you get my point.) , I started working out in my head how I would need to sell a kidney or cancel Blogher. I couldn’t exactly shell out money for a good time in Chi-town while my family sat in the seventh circle of hell. Could I? No seriously, I’m asking, can I?
But just then, during my second chorus of The Thrill is Gone while laying spread-eagle on the tile floor of the bathroom (and no, not, from the night before, geez): a miracle in modern times. Cool air began blowing out of the vent. I’m married to a pretty cool (har) dude and it took the air conditioning going out to remind me. So thanks universe, but next time you need to send me a message via household appliances, why not break the washing machine or the dishwasher and make it a win-win for all of us?
Dearest Darling Husband –
Sorry I ever doubted you honey. I suck, you rock and everyone knows it. You amaze me. I fell in love with you all over again today when you did whatever it was you did with that fuse thingie (no, I wasn’t really paying attention when you explained it in detail). Just thinking of you is making me hawt all over, but this time me likey.
Here’s wishing you all a cool weekend and happy spousal, er, uh, relations.