The Seven Day Forecast? 100 Degrees Every. Single. Day!

"...and the temperature went from 101 to 92 degrees after the rain showers so that's good news for those who needed a break from the heat."

"Break from the heat?" I asked the TV newscaster from my new permanent post in our sunroom. "Who are you kidding?"

I am bitter, of course. Ninety-two degrees is a break after the triple-digit temperatures we've been experiencing lately but I have a hard time seeing it that way due to the oven-like temperatures emanating from the second floor of our home.

Sunday night I started up the stairs to get ready for bed and was met with a wall of heat as I turned the corner on our landing. "What the...?" I asked myself as I hurried over to the upstairs thermostat. It read 78 degrees. "That's odd," I thought to myself, "I have it set to hold at 70 degrees (I can't sleep if it's over 70)--how can it be all the way up to 78?"

Then I remembered last Summer...

It was the day before our wedding, to be exact. We woke up to blue skies and birds singing and...a really hot first floor. Fortunately, we have two A/C units (one for each floor) so at least the sleeping floor was cool. There was no way I was going to sweat the night away on the eve of my wedding (not to mention that we had house guests). I set Husband-to-be on the arduous task of scheduling a repairman and thought nothing more about it. The next day the guy came and informed us that we had a broken compressor. "Yeah--I see this all the time with this model A/C unit," he told us. "Have you replaced the compressor on your other unit? If you haven't, you will soon!"

"Soon" came almost exactly one year later as I discovered this past Sunday. "Husband, come here!" I called. Husband walked over to the thermostat where I was standing. "See this?" I asked, indicating the temperature displayed on the thermostat. "This is a broken compressor problem. This is exactly what that technician warned us about last summer."

"No...it's definitely not the compressor." Husband replied, ever the all-knowing macho man. "I can hear air blowing and that wouldn't be happening if the compressor were broken."

Of course I argued with him for a while. As a field technician, I learned to quickly troubleshoot problems by identifying patterns. There was definitely a problem and it mirrored last year's broken compressor scenario. Husband grudgingly agreed to call the repairman the next day and we slept that night on top of the blankets and sheets.

The next day I was sick and slept most of the day away. I was feeling so bad that I called Husband at work and asked him to come home at 4 and wait for the repair guy because I couldn't get out of bed. He gallantly obliged.

Two repairmen came and spent over an hour looking at our A/C unit and compressor. I can't put my finger on why I felt this way, but at some point I got a vibe that they weren't very competent. At 6:15 pm they informed us that we had a faulty compressor and that they would need to order a new part. This was no problem since the upstairs was cooling partially--at least enough for us to sleep. We went about our night and thought nothing of it.

At midnight, I ascended the stairs, turned the corner on the landing and was met with a wave-like wall of heat that was stifling. I rushed over to the thermostat. It read 91 degrees.

"Holy crap!" I exclaimed. "Those bastards broke our A/C unit completely! No wonder they were in such a rush to get out of here!"

And so began our night of torment. We tried sleeping on top of the covers again, but it wasn't happening. Instead, we had one of those long, soul-searching conversations like the ones you have when you're first dating (it was fun!). At 2 am we relocated to the downstairs couch (Husband) and the sunroom couch (me). I tossed and turned but couldn't sleep for more than 20 minutes at a stretch (Husband slept just fine, thankfully). I needed my bed.

I mounted the stairs and braced myself for the heat. The thermostat read 85 degrees. I don't think I fell asleep, rather, I believe that I simply fainted for six hours. A least it was enough to get me through today.

I spent two hours this morning searching for a company that rents out portable A/C units but found none. Someone is missing out on a HUGE business opportunity. This is Texas, after all, and A/C units break all the time here. I called our A/C repair company and harassed them for a while. I even played the pregnancy card with the sweet, 20 year-old customer service rep which got me *nowhere* (she can't empathize--she's never been pregnant). Finally I resorted to making myself feel better by 1) leaving the house, and 2) complaining to anyone who would listen.

Tonight Husband is going to gallantly carry a mattress down the stairs (the thermostat now reads 92) and place it in the sunroom for me. Who knows how long it will be before the A/C unit gets fixed?

Of course, first thing tomorrow I will be busy harassing our repair company. I might even have to shed a pregnant tear or two.

Addendum:

Husband duly hauling The World's Thickest Mattress out to the sunroom.



My new sleeping quarters ala Princess and the Pea. I practically need a step ladder to mount the damn thing.