The day started at three am, the lights on the cable box atop the dresser insistent on my face, the ceiling fan drying out my eyes and my bladder hinting, no, insisting, that another UTI was setting up shop.
Sleep? I stumbled out, sweaty, to flip on the hall light and inspect the thermostat. 89 degrees. The air conditioning has been broken for two days as the slow chain of calls worked its way up to the landlady, to the owner of the rental house, to the home warranty people, to the actual heating and cooling contractor and finally, back to me. Have a seat in Satan’s sitting room, my house.
Too bad we missed out on the fun of doing something really, truly wicked to earn our spot in this little oven of a house. Instead, we were merely minding our own business, readying for the big move to our newly built home next week and the AC froze up.
Waiting for the repairman. Waiting to close on our house. Waiting for the antibiotics to kick in.
On a positive note, the stray breezes coming in the window bring hints of the scents of childhood memories- of other open windows in other places, with beloved grandparents and great aunts long gone. Subtle odors, of plants? woodwork? rain?- are so clean and calming that the air fresheners and ubiquitous candles for sale seem harsh and tawdry, pretending to be “ocean breeze!” and offending when they most certainly are not.
Soon our collection of birds will be waking up, demanding food and baths. The grey is in for a treat- the arrival of a man bearing tools will give her a chance to practice her deep voice she saves for just such occasions, calling out “HELLO. HOWYA DOIN’?” as if she could fool someone into thinking she was going to sit down at a bar and talk football at a bar with the guys over a beer.
I wish it were next week, right now and that today would hurry up and be OVER.
For now, I leave you with this- a memory of hiking with my daughter in Colorado. Where the air is naturally conditioned.