Our air conditioner is making our bedroom a livable place. In fact, it's kind of hard to leave it.
You know what I don't get? Government agencies telling me to set my a/c at 26 degrees. Now what, I ask you, is the point of that? Ours is set at 20 degrees--68 Fahrenheit--you know, room temperature. 26? That's almost as hot as our room gets. If you're supposed to keep your a/c at 26 degrees, you might as well just buy a dehumidifier instead.
There are certain things I'm willing to pay for. Willing to pay a lot for. And very high on the list is a good night's sleep. If I could, I'd get a couple of industrial air conditioners and set the temp at about 12 in there. Then I'd really sleep well.
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It's been a week here in the Breadbin. My mother-in-law underwent exploratory heart surgery yesterday. Nothing like that to ratchet up the stress...and it certainly didn't help that she's deathly allergic to the dye they had to use. Nor did it help that, despite being scheduled for 9:00 a.m., she didn't get into surgery until after 2:00 p.m. Emergency cases kept coming in and getting slotted ahead of her...you'd really think there'd be a separate stream for things like that, but...oh, yeah, this is Canada, eh?
Anyway, the good news is only one artery's blocked. The bad news is the muscle underneath it is dead. So there's not much they can do. It's a good thing my wife's family has a habit of outliving people's expectations.
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Last Friday, when I got home from the last night shift I'm going to work until September (yes, we'll have a night crew again, as soon as we can find and train some honest people!), I made a deal with myself that I could go to bed as soon as I finished moving the bedroom around. There was a little more work than I'd bargained on, but what really slowed me down was dropping the damn bed on my foot. Entirely new curse words were invented and strung together at high volume. For the better part of a day walking was beyond me; the only reason I'm semi-ambulatory now has something to do with a whole lot of ice.
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I hope something happens outside this house soon so I can blog about it!
4 comments:
26? What's the point. We got lucky when we moved to a new house - it has trees covering nearly the entire structure. It gets warm, but nearly as bad as our old place - it was 30-31 in there every night during the hot days.
Sleeping in the heat is horrible, crank it down and don't feel bad about doing it my brother.
I hear you Ken. Before our house we were in an apartment and my wife and I were close to tears from being unable to sleep in the heat. The only thing that made it livable was a 1 ton air conditioner running at full blast (and two box fans running top speed to circulate the air).
Now that I am in a house, our AC is set at 24. I think the design of the house and the natural circulation of air make that a more livable temperature for us. But 26? That's the point we turn the AC on.
My wife and kids are home all day, so the AC runs all day. Which means I'm against allowing some dweeb in the hydro office to remotely turn it off to conserve power!
Entirely new curse words were invented and strung together at high volume.
Really? Did you write them down? I really do admire an eloquent use of cursing (yes that's an oxymoron). I've tried it, and it is HARD. I'm stuck on repeating goddamned and fuck over and over again, which is too simplistic and overly crude. My best effort was when I dropped a chair on my foot and called it a "mis-begotten son of a mangy goat". It was a start, but not nearly satisfying enough.
Suggestions to improve are welcome.
Well, I started with my best friend's string. He's one of those prim and proper types that wouldn't say shit if he had a mouthful, and I always have to supply the last three letters if he's mad enough to say "fffffff...."
His string, which is actually quite refreshing, is (all one word) bitchbuggerdamnwhoredykeslut.
Then I branched out, calling the bed a pustulant shit-bubble, a cock-knocking sonuvafuck, and as I recall I was saying something like "cunticle!" when the words lapsed into keening moans.
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