So.  My A/C has broken every year I’ve lived in my house.  That’s cool.  I call my landlord, he comes over (have I mentioned he looks like Malibu Ken?) and he fixes it.  The heat breaks every year, too.  Same deal.  I hate dealing with this because Malibu Ken is kind of a dick sometimes.  (If you’re reading this, landlord, I love you all the time and I’m totally just kidding)  Roomie and Raging Liberal and Justin and I changed out the filter.  Still doesn’t work.  So, I text Malibu Ken today (last night was unbearably hot) and this is what I get (btw, every time I see him, he thinks I’m someone else.  He never recognizes me):

(Are you kidding me?  You’re really asking me if I have bothered to turn the apparatus on at all.  Geez, Malibu.  I’m not a complete idiot)

This is when I sighed, stared at my phone and wondered if I should say something insulting.

I thought simplicity might be best and insults might not be the way to go.

I tried pressing the reset button after wrestling with the wet branches on the way to the A/C.  I need some kind of metal rod or strong man arms to push it in.  So, Raging Liberal is going to check it out later.

To Be Continued…

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