Until last Friday, I had been working a dead-end job at a supermarket as a part-time cashier. I have a lively mind and like my feelings to be taken into consideration when talked to. The facts in those two sentences HATED EACH OTHER. The monotony of cashiering, coupled with the way people treat cashiers almost as a matter of course, made my pretty awesome life into a tiny nightmare.
And then I got The Phone Call.
It was like hearing a message from a deity, and all it said was that everything was going to be all right and I could quit my daily hate coma. I basically got the offer of a lifetime: an interview with the person who faux painted my parents' house. In case you couldn't already tell, I love doing stuff to houses. My house, your house, any house. Gimme a wall and a plan, and I'm there. We met, we chatted, she handed me my dream job. I started work Monday, and let me tell you, I hope to be doing this for a long time because I'm loving every second of it. My boss is amazing, the work is challenging yet fun, and the money is very good. My life was perfect for a few golden days. Beautiful home, amazing husband, dream job. The Life.
And then our AC unit broke.
It's the beginning of August.
Did I mention I live in the south part of Texas?
Fortunately, my parents live about fifteen minutes away, and offered to let us stay with them until the AC dilemma is over. And even more fortunately, my parents don't seem to care about how high their electric bill is. It's constantly in the low 70's in this house, and we usually keep it in the mid 80's in ours. I feel almost chilly, and I'm enjoying it immensely. I may not even wake up in the middle of the night because I'm too hot and irritated to stay unconscious. And that is a silver lining that I can live with.
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