Two Degrees Of Desperation

Let the record show that at this moment, the Mansion air conditioner is not running. There will be more on that situation another time at another place. All you need to know is...

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is SWELTERING!

Yeah. I just had my driveway walk. I'd been expecting rain all day, but it was not forthcoming. I guess the TV meteorologists got tired of hyping up teachers' hopes for snow days, and now sensationalize a slight chance of sprinkles so that Mrs. HM can rearrange her daily walk.

Anyhoo...we keep the thermostat set on 73 lately. This morning when I got up, it was 72 in the house. Oh, what a chill! Lucky for me I had a hot shower. I went to town for my 44 oz Diet Coke, and when I walked by that thermostat a couple of times before going down to my dark basement lair, it showed that the ambient inside temperature was 73.

I was headed up the steps to get ready for walking when Farmer H arrived home. He was late today because he'd been to the GRAND OPENING of the new Goodwill Store over in Bill-Paying Town. Actually, it's the same store, just across town at a new location. Farmer H plopped down in the La-Z-Boy. Usually, he goes right outside to feed his animals. But since I was inside, I guess, he decided to linger. I went to the kitchen to get my poor dogs a bone partially microwave a freezer-burned pork steak for Jack and Juno's evening snack. When I walked back to the living room to put on my walking shoes, I noticed that the thermostat proclaimed my immediate atmosphere to be 74 degrees.

"Why is it 74 degrees in here? It's set to hold on 73."

"I don't know. I guess it just hasn't cooled off yet from when it kicked on."

I went on about my walk. Cut up the dogs' food. Gave Juno the half with the bone, because she has a bigger mouth. Farmer H was nowhere to be seen. I hollered to him, but there was no answer. I figured he was outside feeding. I took the plates out to the porch and sat down on the pew to keep the peace. Here came Farmer H out the door (with the doorknob that still doesn't work).

"The air conditioner is broke. It's not running. It's burning up."

"It seemed to be fine all day, until now. I didn't touch it. It seemed like always until I came up and it was 74."

There's more to that exchange, too, which may or may not be shared. The point is...

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is SWELTERING!

Yeah. It's 75 degrees inside the Mansion. I'm sure some of you cold-blooded people may have yours set even higher. But around here, 73 is comfortable, and 74 is barely tolerable. 75 is SWELTERING.

Never mind that I sit at my desk in my dark basement lair, running my electric heater. Now that I know there is no air conditioning, I am sure it is at least ten degrees hotter down here! Even though I am underground. In a concrete basement with no windows.

Funny how just KNOWING that the air conditioner is broken means that

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is SWELTERING!