No one should live without air conditioning in the desert. It is a cruel environment and requires some serious comforts. In my 10 days in Las Vegas, I have consumed many, many gallons of water, and still I am dehydrated. I feel faint as soon as the sun hits my skin. Me, the girl who would walk 10 miles in Manhattan just to cross the Brooklyn Bridge for a killer pizza at Grimaldi's (which, by the way, opened a location in Vegas a year ago--THANK YOU!!) can barely climb the 3 flights of stairs to my front door without taking a break on the second-floor landing. I feel like a big wimp, but this dryness, this heat, is a bitch! And while in my New York life I would usually choose all-natural summer air over recycled air conditioning (much to Alex's chagrin), here in Las Vegas I can barely stand to sit on my balcony for more than 90 seconds before retiring to an ice bath with the AC pumping away.
So let me tell you, when the AC stopped working last night, I was not pleased. And here in the mid-day heat, sitting in my 89 degree apartment, I'm rather pissed off. We had a man come out to fix it a week ago, and he said there was no problem, we just needed to keep the thermostat at 79 degrees and it would work fine. Now, I've never had central air, and to me, 79 seems like a reasonable enough temperature to keep a desert apartment at. However, everyone else we've talked to in Vegas said, (79?? What's the point?). So, we kept it at 75. And it was nice. Alex would've preferred 71, I would've preferred 78, so we middled. And all was well. Until last night. And now, my cat is puking up cat grass and looking at me like she's in the process of being slowly cooked alive. I feel her pain. WHERE THE HELL IS THE MAINTENANCE MAN?
I think tonite, we may be staying in a hotel. And I plan on keeping the room at about 68 degrees. I've never been a fan of the cold, but I will gladly freeze a bit tonite. Oh, I am so not a desert diva...
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