Hot Like a Cheetah.

It's true what they say about the frogs in the pot. You know how they say that if you put a frog in a pot of cool water and then turn on the heat the frog doesn't know the difference until it's too late. I know because I am that frog. Ribbit.

Our AC unit, or @*$*%! hot box, up and died on us last night leaving us roasting like peanuts in our own shells today. I didn't notice until it was 87º and I was wondering if perhaps I had a fever. Upon further investigation I was fine, it was just the hunk of junk outside my bedroom window that was sick. Sick, and tired, and done with us.

I called the repair people and Chad came out to give me the bad news. Chad who had his name painted directly under his driver's side window in black italics. Odd to have your name displayed like that for all to see as your driving around town. Wonder if I did that on my Mazda how that would look? Maybe I'll get some rub-on's and try it. His business cards said Chad too. No last name, just Chad. I feel like that old grumpy guy Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes right now.  

So Chad and his fancy hoses and dials went around to the side of the house and pronounced our AC unit deader n' dead and gave me all the options for replacement. He was throwing all sorts of fancy abbreviations around, lots of letters and numbers (especially the kind with lots of zeros at the end), rebates and warranties, tax write-offs and energy savings compounded over time..... Meanwhile the boy was just happily splashing around in his little plastic pool. Heat? What? What heat? Long story longer, Chad's coming back tomorrow morning to replace the hulking burg of debris with a new shinier burg (hopefully with new and improved magical cooling powers).

Needless to say, we decided to go out for gelato tonight. 

**And yes, it's 93º at 10:30 at night but it only feels like 92º with the fan on. **