As I get closer to my actual moving day, the living conditions at my old apartment are becoming more and more challenging. Most of my kitchen stuff is packed, so it’s difficult to cook. The cable and internet has been switched off so entertainment options are limited. And I’ve been using the same damn bath towel since I washed and packed all my other ones.
These challenges, for the most part, have been manageable. However, last night I had a MAN DOWN CODE BLUE RED ALERT REPORT TO YOUR BATTLESTATIONS situation – my air conditioner died.
People who know me realize how traumatic the lack of air conditioning is for me. Air conditioning is my life. After a Pennsylvania
“As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be sweaty again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I’LL NEVER BE SWEATY AGAIN!”
So, tonight after work, I will put on my finest hat and my stiffest petticoat and sashay into the hardware store to purchase an air conditioner. Even if I have to marry Frank Hamilton, pick cotton, shoot a Yankee soldier and make a dress out of my mother’s curtains in order to get the money.
Fiddle dee dee, Biatches...
