I had eschewed air conditioning in my apartment this summer because it smells weird, because it makes me too cold, and because I can: this is the first summer in years I don’t have to compromise on temperature with someone who once complained he was “too hot” in the middle of a blizzard.
But, there’s that old New England phrase: “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity”, and on Wednesday morning, the humidity was keeping me up and making me crabby until I snapped. It was 2:45 am when I sat upright and said, “Ok, fuck this.”
I got in my car, drove over the bridge to Manhattan, bought an air conditioner in New York’s only 24 hardware store, lugged it home, installed it, and finally fell asleep in some sort of comfort just after four in the morning.
Guys? I bought an air conditioner at 3 in the morning. This is why I live in New York.