Wednesday, March 19, 2003
My air conditioner is broken. Well, not so much broken as it is still cranking out air. The fact that it keeps the house at a balmy 82 degrees despite my sincerest efforts to make it do otherwise is where the a.c. unit and I are having quarrels. Something is amiss when the thermometer outside reads at least five degrees cooler than that on the inside. I'm sweaty, wearing only what my modesty asks that I keep on, and am not above seducing the neighbors to steal a few moments of cooler air.
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