The air conditioners we had so painstakingly installed needed to be put away. Yes, we could have stuffed old shirts around their edges but we figured simple, right? What could happen? Turns out Ann's way of changing out the AC is to simply push it out the window.
Yeah, after many moments of "now I'm going to lift... and then I'll push.. and then you'll hold, and you got it? Yeah, you have the top? Yep, and the bottom? Yep." And then
a sort of inhuman cry from Ann Pancake.
I have always said to test a marriage you should move a mattress together. We have actually, finally learned how to do that, so perhaps I was a bit overconfident in thinking we could remove an AC from a window.
As I silently made my way downstairs (did I mention this was the second floor window?) I was thinking, in about 20 minutes this is going to be funny.
Next step: Lower the unit into its box, so clever were we to keep it, weren't we? Did you know that on the back of an AC are vents that are filed to razor sharp edges in order to... fuck I have no idea what the purpose is, but I can guarantee you that if you hold the unit by the back, you will slice the pads of ALL your fingers.
|Those are teeny tiny razor blades.|
And it WAS funny!
In other news...
We got a new dog!
Her name is Mica and she is from the wonderful Preston County Animal Shelter. We are still not sure how we got her. We were visiting two other dogs we liked, came into the office to chat with the staff and asked what her story was, because she was completely cowering in a corner like she'd been seriously abused. The next thing we knew, the warden had brought her out and asked if we wanted to walk her.
"Did you ask her to bring her out, babe?"
"No, did you?"
Much head shaking.
So we figured it was our usual spirits at work. We couldn't get her off our mind. We brought Bodie to introduce her, brought shirts we'd slept in to help her learn our scent, and walked her several times a week. Each time she came out of her shell a tiny bit more, but always shaking terribly.
We chose her partly because she was good with cats, and so, when I was on the floor with grief about Sailor, we became completely caught up in acclimating Mica to our house, to Bodie, to warmth, her own bed, and regular meals.
|Winter coat, with reflectors.|
|Natural order of privilege.|
|Her own bed, and perpetual state of disbelief.|
|First walk, tail up!|