The AC in the ICU will be DOA soon. It’s 27 in human years or 150 in air conditioner years.
Freon’s dripping through holes in a tube causing a mid summer system freeze, like a PC’s CPU though desktops blow hot air mostly. The AC blows both hot and cold.
It’s cantankerous and groans and often forgets where it leaves its keys. Last year it suffered from incontinence and leaked onto the floor in the utility room and then flowed into the basement. We should hire a visiting nurse to stop by every day to make sure the AC doesn’t fall or forgot to take its meds.
It’s also short tempered at times, yells at little kids to get off our lawn. I’m sick of apologizing to the neighbors about our rude air conditioner. When I ask it to be more sociable, it just hisses at me.
Nothing works. I’ve even tried grounding it. But the compressor hums happily outdoors where there’s no pressure. Besides, you can’t punish your elders, especially when they’re venting at you.
I rush home from work to make sure the AC’s still alive. On the way home in toasty 87 degree heat, I press several buttons on the dashboard for maximum cold air velocity.
A few minutes later, my back and butt bake on the hot faux leather. Menopause? I’m sure. But I’m wrong. I accidentally turned on the heated seat. Perfect end to a day in which I wadded through thick wet air, knee deep, without a life preserver.
And then back home again to the sound of the AC grunting and hocking up tube sealant while my password dysfunction shifted into fourth gear. A hacker from Tabasco Sauce, Mexico tried to log in to my email and burn my account.
I saw red, changed all my passwords and then five minutes later forgot them. Must be a symptom of underemployment isolation. That and creeping brain fog, both an evil distraction and my best friend.
It talks to me along with the AC and the characters in my head while my ears ring from a lack of social contact; silence at work and then at home, where I crank out the crazy, a jack-in-the-box, wound up tight, pops when the music in my head stops.
How’s your week been?