Upon opening the electric bill this month, I fell to the linoleum in bitter tears.
Not really. But I did do a little cursing. In my head. Which, yes, does count.
Fiddledaddy’s answer to our heat wave and subsequent rise in the states electricity revenue, was to turn the thermostat up from a cool 79 degrees to 86 AFRICA HOT.
Forgetting that he lives with a pre-menopausal woman.
Who may or may not be harboring repressed aggressive tendencies.
After a few days of enduring me, he began to look at other options.
“We could leave Florida behind in our steamed up rear view mirror,” I helpfully suggested.
We have a very large window in our family room. A room which faces West, and gets no shade whatsoever from the nature preserve (heavy use of air quotes) that we paid extra for. In the afternoon, the heat is stifling in that room. Causing the air conditioner to pull double duty for the rest of the house.
We have curtains that boast of heat blocking capabilities, but they LIE.
Fiddledaddy decided to put a shaded film over the glass.
Kind of like the kind your car has in the back windows so that no one can see you swat at your children while they bicker with one another while you drive.
Or is that just me?
He elicited my help after the children were blissfully unconscious for the night. He had already windexed the windows earlier, prompting Jensen to cock his head to one side, “Daddy, what are you doing to the windows?”
“Something you’ve probably never seen before, I’m CLEANING THEM.”
He’s hysterical, that’s what he is.
When we began the task at hand, Fiddledaddy said that he just needed me to hold the film while he sprayed it.
Which should have been my cue to run. Run like mad.
I stood holding the large piece of film before me, while Fiddledaddy coated it with Window Film Application Spray.
MY EYES, MY EYES!
And then I noticed a stinging sensation all over the areas which were exposed to the spray. Which were many, since my wardrobe has been reduced to tank tops and boxer shorts, due to the balmy conditions in my home.
Spitting the poisonous substance out from my mouth, I suggested that we trade jobs. But then realized that I was neither tall enough or had long enough arms to actually get the thing up on the window.
Besides. That job was hard. Which I surmised because of all the cursing that Fiddledaddy was doing in his head.
The film worked marginally. So Fiddledaddy but plan C into action by purchasing a roll down shade to go over the outside of the window.
Again, he elicited my help in the hanging of the shade. I braved the hell-like temperatures to ascend my trusty old 8 foot ladder so that we could mark the drill holes.
As a side note, it was nice to once again take a gander at the neighbor’s yards. Since we installed the 6 foot privacy fence 10 years, I hadn’t been able to ogle the neighbor’s lawn care issues.
And this is where my neighbor’s are eternally grateful for the 6 foot privacy fence. Yet still, Jensen manages to whip all the backyard neighboring dogs into a frenzy by howling at them, sight unseen, from our back porch.
The shade was properly installed, and I noticed cooler temperatures in the family room in the late afternoon. Ever hopeful that Plan C has done the trick.
If this doesn’t manage to bring our bill down by next month, Plan D is mine. I’ll introduce my industrial sized windows to some industrial sized aluminum foil and a little duct tape.
And pray that full-on menopause has the good sense to wait until Winter.
For the good of all man and womankind. Amen.