August 05, 2004

No, August is the cruelest month.

We're five days into August and already I've spent them sick, fighting fever along with Jenna, the entire newly-sprung month.

Already our dryer has died and I'll spare you the details on getting a new one. Unless you live in Atlanta, it is nearly impossible to understand how difficult it is to get someone to take your honest wages in return for promptly (as in, this year sometime) delivering the item to you. It just doesn't happen. Retail is like a schoolyard, where only the bullies, brown noses and popular kids get what they pay for when they pay for it.

While George was out hunting dryers today, I noticed the house getting hotter and hotter. Checked our temps. Yep, still running around 100. I guess that's why, but gee it seems hot, I say to myself, and then to Jenna: "Are you hot?"

"I'm so hot," is the answer.

I check the thermostat. Oh no. It's close to 87. Oh no, the air is set at 79. I check the vents. Oh dear. Hot air. Not now. I try a few tricks.

1) turn off the AC. Pray. Turn around three times and click my heels. Turn it back on.


2) call the AC guy whose number I have, try to schedule an appointment before December on the off chance that calling him will jinx the AC back to life. Turn it back on.


3) cry softly into a kleenex, please we can't afford this right now--the dryer was a surprise, now the AC, please not now. Turn it back on.


I made the call to a gentleman who says he actually can come look at it tomorrow. The same day our dryer (number 2--the first delivery people from H.H. Gregg never showed up) is coming. And summer has been basically workless.

Off to bathe in luke warm water so I don't feel like I'm burning to a crisp.

Did I mention school starts Monday?