Too Cool! Too Cool!

We are still waiting to find out specifics on when our air conditioner might be diagnosed and repaired. That's a holiday weekend for you. Well, played, THE UNIVERSE! I hope your ribs hurt from lengthy guffawing.

Meanwhile, Hick has a routine. He turns the AC on in the morning when he gets up, and off as he leaves. It brings the temperature down one or two degrees in that half hour. In the evening, he turns it on again, until bedtime (for him). That's the problem. He sets it way low, to cool as much as possible before turning it off. Then the continuous fan circulates that air all night. We don't want the fan to stop, and we don't want to leave the AC on, in case it does. That would freeze the coil.

As I've said, I'm not uncomfortable during the day. The house doesn't heat up until afternoon. It's generally around 74-75 until I leave for town, then goes up to 78. We usually have it set on 74 anyway, in the summer. I still use a blanket when I lie down for my nap before town. It's not like I have a roaring fire in a wood stove, fixin' vittles for Hick while he's out hoeing (heh, heh) the North Forty. I sit around at my laptop, wash dishes, and watch TV.

In the evening, Hick lounges around in tighty-whities, shirtless, with the AC running continuously for 3-4 hours. This is when I become uncomfortable. Like as I'm typing right now at the kitchen table. My hands are so cold that I must stop to shove them into my armpits like Mary Katherine Gallagher. The tip of my nose is cold and dripping. I guess I'm healthy as a dog. I'm wearing a sweatshirt over a short-sleeve shirt. What I really need is my sock cap to hold in body heat.

"Hey! What's the temperature, anyway? About 50? I'm freezing to death!"

"Heh, heh. I'll turn it off here in a minute."

At 8:00, Hick got out of his recliner to push the button to turn off the AC. Yes, I could have done it. But that's Hick's job! No need for me to walk to the living room. I might snap off an arm that is frozen like an icicle.

About five minutes later, I could tell the vent behind me was no longer pumping out cold air. Just circulating the cold air that stayed a steady temperature.

"How cold was it, anyway?"

"Seventy-two." Said Hick, with the inflection of the Land Shark announcing, "Candygram."

Hick is not a good liar. But he knows Val is too lazy frozen to get up and walk to the living room to check the temperature for herself.