A/C...whatchu gonna do?

I swear in one of his singsong-y moods, my brother coined that expression for my little sis.

But anyways, it totally applies to my current situation.

Our air conditioning is broken, but not in the way that it is simply not working. Rather, it is FREEZING all the time.

But I have no desire to call maintenance. Why, you ask? Because it would be the fourth time.

Our A/C, I've decided, is perpetually broken. The other times, it was because only HOT air would blow out (and we would sulk around with red faces and wake up sweaty). Yes, even when we adjust the dial on the side to in-between temperatures.

I don't feel like arguing with the cranky loud accusatory maintenance man again (and then imitating him behind his back to make my roommates laugh), so I'll slap on some socks and face the no-happy-medium facts.

Without fail, every time my dad and I have talked he somehow gets around to expressing his profound relief about it. Almost like "Oh yeah, good for you in all of your achievements and whatever, but geez, it's so great you have A/C."

It's okay, I just accept he's a good weather brat: he and my mom distinctly moved to SoCal for year-round 70 degree temps.

So that's why I won't complain that it's so cold, it's practically causing early-onset arthritis.

Just counting my blessings.

And don't get me wrong, I'm the kind of person who likes it drafty when I sleep: you know, cold on the outside, and warm under the covers so you can stick your leg out during the night to regulate your internal homeostasis. Needless to say, for me to admit the air is freezing is no small feat.

When I woke up the other day, shivering and burrito-wrapped in my blanket, all Sarah could say was "how nice" it was.

This from the girl who waxed poetic about hot and humid summer days being like "a warm bath."

Well, I could certainly use one right now.