You may not know this, but our house does not have central air. NO AIR. Have you been around lately? It is hot has Hades in these parts and we are all feeling the heat.
Long before this heat wave we decided that air was in order. Also, a new furnace would be a good idea since ours is about 20 years old, huge, and makes the worst noises when it is running. Efficiency is the order of the day so we were all set to get them both installed. Then we discovered we needed our neighbor's permission to put the a/c on the side of the house. Our 90 year old neighbors. Our 90 year old neighbors that don't have air themselves. (Thanks city!) Can you guess what happened?
B spoke to them first planning on feeling them out. That went something like this:
B: We are thinking of getting air.
Old Ass Neighbor: Oh! That's not a good idea.
Old Ass Neighbor: That will bring down property values.
Old Ass Neighbor: I don't think the city will allow it.
Old Ass Neighbor: Nope. Not good.
Yep. That went well. I was sent in next to "charm" them. That didn't work out so well either. In fact, rather than being the charmer, I turned out to be the ambushee. I came home one day to change clothes before going to the doctor and was waved over by Mrs. OAN. She told me she had a "construction guy" (seriously she pronounced it like it had quotes) over to work on her house. Thinking this was the perfect opportunity to charm her, I opened my mouth to say "speaking of improvements..." but it was too late. Her next sentence was out: "I want you to talk to him about some ideas WE have about YOUR air." Oh joy.
The next 15 minutes dragged by as I listened to the "construction guy" give me such options as under our kitchen window. Um, no. We call that the driveway. Then they took me to the FRONT of the house and told me to stick it behind a bush. This bush, in fact. Where the tree is:
Although I said I didn't think the city would go for that, they were not deterred. However, their "construction guy" could not focus. He was insane. He looked like a homeless person and drove a beat up old rusty Pontiac. He told me stories of the neighborhood. All of the work he did. More stuff, but unfortunately or fortunately, I could only understand one out of every four sentences. I did clearly understand him when he said he worked Special Ops out of the nearby airforce base. It took a lot to hold my composure. The same would be true when he pulled out 10 huge pictures of planes from his portfolio. Mrs. OAN had asked him to get me a business card. That is what I got instead. 10 pictures, 8 of which were identical. Mrs. OAN rolled her eyes. Mr. OAN told me that my furnace was not old. I assured him it was. Mrs. OAN called Mr. OAN senile as in "Oh be quiet, you are senile." I finally got a business card, without really wanting one, when "construction guy" informed me that his email address was captain pig. How professional. Excusing myself with a "I will take this under consideration", I thought I had escaped. Oh no:
Construction guy: You really should get more than 1 estimate for work of this nature. (Oh NOW he decides to be some kind of professional)
Me: I got 5 estimates. Do you think FIVE estimates are enough?
CG: Oh, well, yes.
[as I am walking away]
CG: Do you have any kids?
Me: Um, no.
CG: Kids get hot.
OMFG are you kidding me? Did he think we were considering whether or not to GET air? No. F the kids man, WE get hot! The man was NUTS. I immediately told B and told B when he got home he better go over there because there was no charming and we clearly weren't getting any permission and that guy is NUTS. What did B do?
He hid from them inside the house.
Which led me to the public library to search for the ordinance so we could find some place, any place, to put it without Old Ass Neighbors' permission. With heavy hearts, and the information that we would have to blow through four walls in our basement, we resigned ourselves to put it under our kitchen window. And we were sad.
Then B decided to try one more time. For reasons unbeknown to us, OANs gave in and gave us written permission to put in on the side. They were concerned about noise and I guess B gave them enough info to ease their mind. Or they decided we weren't going to back down. I don't care about their reasoning. I just want air.
Really....look at Chester. Doesn't he look like he is dying?
Now why he decided to spend the hottest day of the year UPSTAIRS and rolling around is beyond me. And if you are looking for his boy bits (pervert!) I blurred them out. Chester is modest you know. Can't you tell? Look how shocked he looks at my capturing all of him:
Yeah he is fat and hot. He will be glad when we get air. B will be glad so he can sleep at night. I will be glad so I can sit at the computer and write witty posts for you without melting. Or read without melting. Or watch TV without melting. Or just not melting.
Air, sweet, air. I love you!