Turn ON the !@#%&! AIR CONDITIONER!!!

Ways to Tell It’s Time to Turn on the Air Conditioner

Everyone tries to wait till the last minute to turn on the A/C because it’s more expensive to run than the heater. We struggle to find ways to stay cool till we reach the absolute deadline, which is when homicide is imminent somewhere in the house. So I thought I’d provide a few early warning signs at the beginning of the summer, just so everyone has a clue.

While having breakfast, you notice the icing has slid off your cross bun.

When you cracked the eggs on the side of the frying pan, they dropped in hard boiled.

Your animals have passed out by their water dish.

The water in the goldfish bowl is bubbling, but you don’t have a water filter.

Your normally rambunctious children lie languid on the couch and you can easily roll them out the door.

Your normally languid husband lies comatose on the couch and you can easily remove the remote from his hand.

The rinsed clams on the counter have steamed themselves open.

You can pour the peanut butter out on the bread.

You leave spatula’s on the end tables flanking the couch to help people break the seal that leather makes when it bonds to human flesh.

You help whimpering family members peel their thighs off the leather couch cushions.

You cover your leather couches and chair with bed sheets.

If you run out of bed sheets, you rub cooking oil on your leather furniture so people at least have a chance to slide free.

You watch Christmas movies, or any move that has a lot of snow in it.

It’s 10 AM and all your makeup has slid off your face.

You’ve filled the baby bath with baby powder and you’re just rolling the whole baby through it.

The ice cube you tried to rub across your forehead melted on contact.

You are rationing ice cubes to family members and accepting bribes.

There is a frozen baby’s teething ring in your bra because it cools you down without dripping.

You keep rearranging food in the freezer just for the exposure to cold air.

You husband agrees to telepathic sex.

While talking on the phone, your ear forms a watery suction seal.

Paper money feels damp.

If feeding your family means you have to get near a stove, then they can just starve or forage on their own.

Cigarettes ignite as they are pulled out of the pack.

The personal space between family members has increased to a six foot perimeter so nobodies body heat touches anyone else’s.

You know that turning on the A/C uses energy that increases global warming and you really don’t want to do that, but the globe is so warm in your house right now that unless one of those break away icebergs shows up on your street so you can chip out an ice cave to live in, you are just going to have to turn on the A/C at some point.

Someone in the house finally breaks from the pressure and yells out, “Can we PLEASE turn on the A/C!”, followed by a chorus of agreement, ended when Dad yells, “It’s not that hot, go run some cold water on your face.”

Beer. Beer will save the family. Someone gets Dad a cold brewski, then a second. In that moment after Dad takes the first sip from the second beer, then pauses to look at the bottle - in that second when man and beer regard each other, Mom turns on the A/C. And before you know it, all is right with the world.