Both friends and people who wish me ill, I have news. I now have air conditioning in neither my car nor my home. And will not be able to have my air conditioning at home repaired until Thursday. If that. Because I can’t take time off of work to be there and apparently one has to be around for that sort of repair. Ugh.

Friends and people who wish me ill, it is extraordinarily hot and humid in the south these days. And that’s saying a lot, because August in Alabama is already known for its heat and humidity.

I have complained at length about driving around with no air conditioning. I believe I’ve written that subject right to death. You would think there wouldn’t be much to add to this topic of complaint in this extended form.

But no. I am very talented at the complaining. You shall see.

  • Walking into one’s home on a hot afternoon and expecting a blast of cool air in greeting only to get a blast of hotter air instead is an unpleasant and disconcerting experience.
  • And should be accompanied by much cursing.
  • When you see that the thermostat reads 88° but the temperature is set to 73°, you just about fall out. Somehow, you were hoping you’d just set the thing for effing unbearably hot before you walked out the door that morning. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.
  • It turns out being a girl is good for certain things but really crappy for others. No one ever thinks to teach you what to do about a broken air conditioner. Daddy or Hubby are there for that sort of thing. Turns out Daddy lives two hours away now and I’ve voluntarily parted with the services of Hubby (who we will soon have to rename, I suppose), so here I am, totally clueless and sweating profusely.
  • Turning off and on the unit does nothing. Replacing the air filter only reveals that your house is far dustier than you imagined. Randomly flipping breaker switches in your fuse box proves to be useless as well.
  • Having been advised by a friend of the masculine variety to fiddle with the fuse box outside the house near the air conditioning unit, I attempted to wade through my weeds and open the massive box on the wall and flip things at random. This caused the piercingly annoying noise emanating from the thing to stop and start again when flipped back to the ON position.
  • These efforts left me more sweaty and definitely still without air conditioning, and I was disconcerted again upon re-entering the house. It was actually hotter in there than outside.
  • I fixed myself a cold dinner, waded through the swamp-like atmosphere in my house to the bedroom, turned on my soap opera and ate. Oh yeah. I think at some point I lost multiple layers of clothing.
  • Still quite hot, I got the remaining Organic Vanilla Ice Cream from my freezer and consumed it quickly. Resisted temptation to rub it all over me as this would have been both temporary and disgusting.
  • Then I praised the Good Lord that I had thought to purchase water bottles at the store on Sunday because my ice maker still has not been put together. THREE YEARS after purchasing the machine.
  • I fully planned to take a cold shower after I caught up on TV and posted here yesterday, but after opening my bedroom windows (and keeping all lights in the house off to keep the heat down), I fell asleep with a bottle of water propped in the curve of my neck on my pillow. And forgot to set my alarm.
  • 7:20 came with alarming speed.
  • Don’t forget, I belong at my desk at 7:45.
  • I made it at 7:55.
  • I looked awful.

And I survived the composition of this post by strategically placing unopened PopIce sleeves under and around me. Girl gets creative in heat like this!

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Well, the obvious answer here is, roll down the windows. But let’s throw in a few complications just for fun.

  • It is July.
  • You are in Alabama.
  • Your car has been baking in the sun all day long.
  • It’s 5:00 and just as hot as any other part of the day.
  • Your hair is pulled up in a complicated and un-duplicatable manner.
  • You are wearing a pencil skirt that constrains lower limb movement.
  • You are wearing a blouse with a tank top underneath.
  • One of your four windows doesn’t function.
  • You are driving for an hour in the blazing heat to meet your family for dinner at a lakefront restaurant.
  • You are running late.
  • You have to pump gas.
  • Your GPS is taking you around the world and down roads that have been closed for months.
  • Your vehicle starts to shake wildly upon hitting 60 mph, so wind speed is less than ideal (especially with the windows only open a couple of inches so your hair stays in tact).
  • Your sun glasses are causing your cheeks to sweat.
  • Even in the OFF position, your air conditioning vents blow HOT air.

I think that’s enough complication to make the whole scenario entirely unique and therefore rendering a post on how to survive said scenario completely useless. However, I will describe my various attempts to decrease the ambient temperature in my car from 115 degrees to 100.

  • Obviously, my windows were down about two or three inches. Well, all of my windows that function were, anyway.
  • Heels were kicked off. Smell be damned, my feet needed to breathe.
  • Skirt was  hitched up to almost inappropriate heights, left leg was propped on the door frame, promoting some vague sense of ventilation.
  • One elbow rested on the center console, the other on the window sill.
  • I leaned as far forward as I could manage so my back wouldn’t be soaking by the time I arrived at my destination.
  • Also the leaning forward let me roll the windows down a fraction more, as my hair was no longer being blown about.
  • Sun glasses were quickly abandoned, sun visor rendered absolutely essential.
  • I closed the air vents, hoping that my car wouldn’t overheat, because I was certainly on the verge of doing so myself.
  • Music turned up to ear-splitting levels, I bellowed along to many bad pop songs to distract myself.
  • Speeding helps make things go faster. Obviously. Turning off the GPS and throwing it out the window might have helped things along too, but I was unwilling to part with the poor thing. We’ve been through so much together…

Basically, I made it. I looked a little disgusting upon arrival at the restaurant, but what is family for, if not to tell you that you look classy and thinner regardless of your slightly-stinky-wrinkled-clothing-windblown-mop-of-hair-more-damp-than-dry true appearance?