Hot Under the Collar

You may recall my air conditioning woes earlier this week. Yesterday it was fixed. I paid the bill, after I had raised the money by promising my future daughters as child-brides to Afghan warlords.

Great, right? Well, I cheerfully walked in this afternoon after a morning of BarHell, only to be assaulted by a wall of heat. Of course the A/C was not working, and no tinkering by my on-call mechanic (AKA my dad, who ran over from the office to help) could fix it.

Five hours and 92 degrees (inside) later, repair dude finally arrived, said the geegaw on the dinglefrick had somehow been knocked loose, though "it couldn't have been us!" Yeah, right, it must have been me on one of my nightly jaunts up in the attic. I was getting ready to serve him up a nice big helping of law school-honed persuasive advocacy (i.e., "nuh-UH!"), but then he oh-so-generously offered to fix it free of charge.

The point? Who said there was a point? Though of course I could not be expected to study in such oppressive conditions....