Our house has central air conditioning. Something I now vow to never live without. Okay, yes I grew up without it and my therapist assures me that I am just fine inspite of it, but sometimes I'm not so sure. When I moved out of my mother's house, into my first apartment, it had air. My life changed and I was introduced to one of the many levels I assume exists in heaven. Now I have lived without it since the first taste, my last house included, but now that we have it, ahhhh. We crank it all day and night. We like to have it so cold that we can sleep with down comforters and snuggle even when its 90+ degrees outside.
Having established this you can now understand the freak-out Kyle and I experienced when our upstairs unit crapped out on Sunday morning. The downstairs air was humming along just fine but when I went upstairs, after breakfast, I felt a wave of heat hit me like I was standing in front of a giant oven and someone just opened the door to check the turkey. Okay so that might be a slight exaggeration, but you get the picture.
Fast forward to Kyle outside standing by the unit, listening to the sounds it makes as I'm upstairs turning it on and off, running down to see what he says, then back up to turn it on and off again. The sad part of it was, it was not working. (Cue the tragic music) So what did we do? Why we did what any other rational, normal minded people would do. We grabbed our king size mattress off our bed and dragged it all the way downstairs to the family room. I mean, come on, the downstairs air is working and, God forbid, we have to sleep in the 'hot' part of the house. Oh and our stairs curve twice on the way down so bending that bad boy was FUN!
There we are on Sunday night, with Lucy happy as a clam, laying on our freshly made 'family room bed', in front of the couch. What better time to throw in a porno and rock out in front of the big screen eh? Just kidding, this is a family blog. tee hee
When I got home from work yesterday Lucy was lying on the bed and I just know she was thinking 'Finally Santa got my letters.' She didn't even bother to get up and greet me like she usually does. Oh no, she just lifted one eyelid and showed me her belly. I swear I think I heard her whisper "Hell to the Yes" under her breath, but I could be mistaken.
Someone is coming out to hopefully fix it today. The super sucky thing then will be having to negotiate the stupid mattress back upstairs to our room. Or maybe we'll just permanently leave it in the family room and tell our guests it's a new craze we read about in some exclusive Interior Design magazine.
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