Five words you don't want to hear: "You need a new compressor."
Four words you DO want to hear: "It's still under warranty."
Seven words that make you want to cry: "The parts won't be here until Monday."
Yes, that's right, our air conditioning is out. It's been unusually cool here in Sacramento all spring, but we've finally hit temps over 80 degrees (which is still pretty mild for us in mid-June), and what happened? I got home from work Thursday night to find Hubby with all the doors and windows open and the temperature in the house, according to the thermostat, 79 degrees. See, Hubby LIKES heat. Hubby doesn't have hot flashes. Hubby doesn't have to BIND A KING SIZE QUILT. So he's just fine.
Me? Not so much. I NEED air conditioning and cooler temperatures. So I closed up the house, turned on the air conditioner, took as many clothes off as I decently could, and laid down on the bed, arms and legs spread out so nothin's touching nothin. And an hour later, when it still felt hot, I looked at the thermostat and it was 78 degrees. And I knew something was wrong. As they say, no flies on me! (Although by Sunday, there probably WILL be--literally)
So you know the rest. On Monday, we leave for nice, cool, coastal beach temperatures; until then, I'll be whining for all I'm worth. And startling my family with my new-found nudist lifestyle.