We once had two window AC units, one in the living room and one in the bedroom. The bedroom unit broke in June. Its absence left us with an insatiable thirst for cold air at the beginning of one of the hottest summers New York City has seen in the last seven years.
We wanted to resign our lease in August before we plunked down money for a new AC. We decided to survive without an AC in the bedroom for the next two months. That proved to be impossible in 95-degree weather.
So, we blew up an air mattress and camped out every night in the living room under the cold air of our ONE working AC. We decided to enjoy the experience. We pretended that sleeping on an air mattress was like camping or being on vacation.
In August, after we resigned the lease, we searched for a new AC. We no longer wanted to sleep in a bed that rested four inches off of the ground and deflated during the night. We went to Bed, Bath, & Beyond and bought the very last AC unit they had left in stock.
It was fate.
We carried the heavy AC unit to a waiting taxi that dropped us off at the corner a half a block from our apartment building. Ben carried it inside and up the elevator to the fifth floor. We put it together and plugged it in wall. We then waited for the room to fill the room with frosty air.
We enjoyed the AC unit for two, TWO, nights before we awoke to a machine gun, lawnmower explosion sound. Our AC broke. Broke!
I waited silently in bed and didn’t move. I hardly breathed and waited for Ben’s response. I suppressed a laugh and knew that Ben was probably about to go crazy. Luckily, he was so disoriented from sleeping that I don’t think the he grasped what happened until the next morning when we awoke to a hot and humid room.
I double-checked the AC again yesterday just to be sure. Still broken. Our one shot, our last chance for cool air that promised nights of good sleep is gone. Guess we’ll have to sweat it out until next year.