Got home from the long trip to New York and went inside to unpack everything. It was hot ... expected that. The thermometer registered a balmy 91 which perfectly matched the outdoor temperature ... didn't expect that because we had left the air conditioner set to cool at 78.
Called the Heat and Air guys. They came fashionably late of course, arriving just in time for the hottest time of day. A half an hour of oooing and ahhing brought the diagnosis.
"Unit looks real bad. Such a nice neighborhood too. Cost ... um ... plenty money to fix."
So, I asked for a second opinion.
The Stoned Ranger of West 149th ate a bowl of crazy the next morning and unleashed himself on my ... Unit. Add to that alarmingly unnatural sensation ... another half hour of sweltering Oklahoma humidity, drowning in my own sweat, sinking in despair, listening to my birds singing "Death to the neon white Monkeyman", before a shriek of discovery peals out!
"Hot diggity damn Loretta! There ain't no freon in this thing."
"No shit, Sherlock" having already been claimed, I had nothing else to say. My Unit was ... dry ... and useless.
"Just so's ya know, this is going to be reeeal expensive to fix. Yep, you're gonna need a whole new ... Unit."
The figure he quoted reached so far up my backside, my jiggling spleen felt the seconds of stupefied silence ticking off one by one on his watch.
So I thought about it through one more hellish day of heat and then ... I got one, a new Unit, from a pair of miscreants named Little John and the Bagman. It's a big, beautiful, brand new Unit that makes me feel proud to sport all four rompin' stompin' tons of it!
It was proudly made in the good old USA by Union Labor. Boo ya!
Me and the Mrs. are enjoying the new Unit ... and are nice and comfy now. Thank you very much.