Our A/C has been out all summer long. What, is that weird?
Well, it is fixed now, thanks to angelic Chris, the air-conditioner man. So our upstairs is livable. Now we can use our oven without wondering if it will jeopardize our night's rest.
But our basement, our previous escape-- paradise, if you will-- is now like a visit to the North Pole. When Santa is out of town. This may be my last post of the whole summer (as the computer resides in the former paradise) if Jed doesn't put the old brass vents back into our newly finished ceiling. Encourage him--I beg you, encourage. Because the open vent over my head shooting out refrigerated air like hail balls while I type is more than I can take. The goosebumps on my arms plead for a Snuggie but alas, all I have is this quilt Jed's old girlfriend made (NO sleeves. Nice. )
Angelic Chris, I love you dearly for fixing our air. Now will someone come and put these vents in (and fix my dripping faucet upstairs and paint Hazel's playhouse)?
See you brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr later. Maybe. (chatter chatter chatter.)