She'll Be the Death of Me

June 5, 2025

Sometimes it's really great living in an old house. Mine is so old that when it was built, there was still a good 30 years until the Civil War. It can be frustrating and expensive at times, but I tell ya, if a nuclear bomb went off, this baby would still be standing. They don't make them like this anymore, that's for damned sure.

Of course, when the first hot day of the year arrives, I have to put the damned air conditioners in the windows. Six in total. I fight it for as long as humanly possible, but it doesn't take too long to cave. As a matter of fact, only two days of 90 degree weather and 100% humidity and we folded like cheap lawn chairs bought at the dollar store.

I feel shame, knowing that when this place was built in 1830, there wasn't even plumbing let alone electricity for fans. Or fans, for that matter! The original owners just dealt with it. They probably slept in the basement when it still had a dirt floor and the walls were covered with cave crickets. Yeah, cave crickets, you know what I'm talking about...God's most horrible creation and the stuff of nightmares.

But still, with all that in mind, I hate this day so much. The day I lose six windows and bust my ass getting these awkward, cumbersome and heavy beasts plopped into their summer holes. It's scary to think just one or two little screws hold them into place. Terrifying really. Of course I put the brackets in underneath them, otherwise I would roll around all night in bed worried that for some reason gravity would do its job just a little better at my house and one would fall. Who am I kidding? I will probably still lose sleep over it, at least for the first few nights.

I say it every year, "This is it, I'm never doing this again, I don't care how much it costs!" But then I put it off, I fail to get estimates, and then comes the heat. It's too late now, another lap around the sun and I have failed again. I want to punch the wall...but alas, I can't. It's plaster and lath, it's three inches thick and held together with horsehair. Yes, horsehair, that's how old this frigging place is!

But I love her. She is my Millennium Falcon. One day, she will be done. Oh, but I dream. Who am I kidding? My house will never be done. When the last nail is hammered, when the last of the renovations are done, I will sit on my wrap around porch, take a sip from my iced cold MGD, and probably drop dead! But that's the way of things, isn't it?

Well, the air conditioners are in!

I hate you so much you beautiful garbage angel!