The air conditioner broke in the apartment.
Three days ago.
It's fucking hot.
On Friday I noticed that the air conditioner was coming on and off every couple of seconds.
(Ladeeleroy and Lipman) Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
So the last couple of days have been spent sprawled out in front of opened windows, sitting in front of fans, drinking water and talking about the vapors.
Ladeeleroy: Ah dew declare! These vapahs will get the best of me! Ah dew declare! If I do not get some keewl air soon, these vapahs will vanish my strength.
Lipman: Shut up. You're sucking in all the cool air.
What's worse is that when it gets hot, people tend to get really on edge. When I say people, I really mean me. There was one point last night where every inch of my body was dripping with sweat. I was already pretty upset because I had started to do about two months worth of laundry and the laundry facilities upstairs only had one washer working. One washer for the 32 people that live there. I was pissed.
That's when I hung up a jacket on a hook. The weight of the jacket was obviously too much for the hook, as it, and about six other things that were hanging on the hook fell to the ground, much like an old man with a hip replacement made out of Pixie Sticks.
From the bottom of my hot feet came a rage that I've not felt in sometime. It moved swiftly through my legs, to my abdomen, to my chest, to my neck, passed my mouth, hit my eyebrows, and returned back to my oral cavity.
And using caps and the bold feature does not justify the shriek that came from my mouth. It was a shriek that broke the sound barrier. If my life were a film, there would have been a wide shot of my apartment, and birds in near by trees would have flown out and away.
I was hot. I was pissed. I was doing laundry. Sometimes you just gotta curse to get out all the frustrations that are getting bottled up.
Lipman stayed as far away from me as possible for the next three hours. Far away is a bit difficult when you're in an efficiency, so it was the equivalent of being huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth in a fetal position, whispering to yourself, "Mommy's demons are out to play. Mommy's demons are out to plaaaaay."
However, we couldn't get the air conditioning fixed when we first found out that it wasn't working. Why? Because the maintenance people for the apartments don't work on weekends. (Apparently they only work when they want to.. as the broken washer upstairs hasn't been serviced for the last three weeks.) And what's worse is that you have to submit a service request in writing, wait for the maintenance people to call you back telling you that they got your service request and they then pass it onto what ever contracted worker services the appliance that you are having problems with.
So I might be without air for the next couple of days.
This could be very bad.
I can't wait until we move. Only one more month. Just one more.