July 19, 2005
The Hottest Ticket In Town: Chez Spinster
It's all about death and love around here.
You see, I am a wine lover. A lover of the wine, the vin de pais, one who has carefully bubble-wrapped some pinot noir for the earthquake kit, one who keeps the fine crystal (a sad reminder of my marriage) because the wine looks so pretty in it, one who makes up little songs about the elixir of life. "Cabernet! I love your way! You are so pretty! So I sing you this ditty!"
I wouldn't mistreat the wine, we have a win-win situation here.
But ya'll, it has gotten to this point: I had to put a full bottle of merlot in the fridge. I am chilling the red. That is how bad things have gotten, all because of Death.
The Death of my other deep love, air conditioning, came late on a sunny Saturday afternoon. This past Saturday, in fact. I mourned and grieved and called for support, but apparently they do not have A/C undertakers just waiting around in tight jeans on Sundays, waiting to come to the rescue of a woman in serious pain. And, also, serious sweat.
Of course, this is Nature's fault. Nature is trying to kill me, but that wench will never succeed. I know she brought this heat wave, and the 107-degree heat that killed my A/C, because she's still holding a grudge from all the aerosol Final Net I used in high school. MY BANGS WERE IMPORTANT, DAMMIT. And that is all I have to say about that.
I called my parents to tell them about the A/C crisis, not because I was in any pain (Ha! Nature! Fooled your ass! I work in a building that is cooled to Arctic Tundra conditions and one must be in the presence of a parka and mittens at all times to endure it! Ha!) but I was intensely anxious about the cats, since they have their little fur coats and don't get to come to Eskimo Corp. each day for work.
I called my parents, because ya'll know. Who else will still love you when you whine so much?
Me: I don't care about the heat on me [LIAR], since I don't sleep anyway [sadly, TRUE]. But the poor cats! They're so hot. What if they get heatstroke?
Dad: Oh, now, they're going to be fine. They're animals. They have their instincts, their natural methods of preservation.
Me: But Daddy, my cats are completely spoiled rotten and have lost all sense of genetic connection with the trashcan-plundering animals of the wild they are descended from. Their ancestors used to hunt and kill their own food and burrow out in the forest somewhere. My cats are too exhausted from sleeping all day to bother greeting me when I arrive home at night.
Dad: Well, yes. When are they coming to fix your A/C again?
And all this time I thought I would be a terrible mother, because I am sort of selfish, and also lazy and kind of absent-minded. But Lord when it comes to these cats I will do nearly anything. I called the landlord no less than ten times to get me an appointment with Mr. Fix It, and then I left work at 3:30 (3:30 ya'll!) to get home so I could check on them.
Once home, I hooked up the front garden hose and hosed down all the windows (to remove the cobwebs and big scary spiders) and climbed up a ladder and used a butter knife to un-wedge the painted-shut windows on the front of the house, and repeated the whole scene in 107 degree heat on the kitchen window and back window. I probably inhaled 50-year old lead paint and G-d Only knows what kind of bugs crawled on me, and ya'll, THE HEAT, I was dripping wet and not the least bit cute, and I did it all for my cats, who apparently I love more than wine.
Because my merlot is in the fridge. And that is a sad, sad state of affairs. But the cats are under a fan and the A/C guy is coming on Wednesday and we just have to get through one more day and night ... and Nature, I will not forget this.
And neither will my merlot.
Posted by laurie at July 19, 2005 3:17 AM