While I always like to think that I am my husband's biggest fan, the truth is I am not. This summer has been pretty warm. Downright hot. I have heard a few reasons why our central air doesn't work but the truth is it would take a lot of work to right the wrongs that have been done to our heating/cooling situation (I guess).
Our house is just a big hot stuffy mess. The kids and I spend the day sweating away. That's okay, I don't really mind it. It would be worse to hear complaints about a high electric bill from having the central air on all day. So we grin and bear it. It's freakin' summer, we'll do what we gotta do. We have a nice house. We live in a beautiful neighborhood. We have more than many, many people so I really shouldn't complain.
Enter Felicia the Fan. Felicia, as I have named her, is a big ass fan my husband has brought from I don't even care to know where. She is something you might see attached to a pole inside the Costco while you check out. I hate her. I hate her so much I named the bitch. My husband loves Felicia. He positions her this way and that way. I have to hear her loudness at all times while he is home. Sure she helps circulate the air around the house. Thanks.
The worst part is the dang thing is on all night. I'm sure the noise and air help him sleep during this heatwave. Me? I lay there awake, grinding my teeth at the noise which I can not stand. What's a wife to do? He's the one who leaves early every morning to work outside the home. He needs his sleep. So I stay there in the cold, noisy room, grinding and chipping away at my teeth until mid fall when the weather cools down a bit and I can finally say....
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