Well, chillun, the week started off bad. When I bought my little brick house from the original owner 30+ years ago, it had no central heat and air, and I've always followed suit and used window units. When I had majestic trees shading the house, it didn't start to get warm inside, even on the hottest days till until the afternoon. But since the trees are gone, my little abode sits fully exposed to the sun and the air conditioner units run full blast all the time. So Sunday I hear the big unit in my bedroom making loud clanking noises--it had died a natural death. The a/c unit in the kitchen had to suffice, and it was hot. Then National Geographic had a retrospective show about Katrina that night and I got all PTSD again and had to take a nerve pill.

Monday early got on the phone to find someone to install another a/c. No luck. Mr. Goodnight advised going to Western Auto 20 miles away and get a unit and they'd put it in. But although they had one 25,000 BTU unit left, they don't install. (Air conditioners are considered a "seasonal" item. I was lucky I found one.) But the folks there called around and found an installer. He and a helper followed me home and after two sweaty hours they had the new one in and hauled the old one off. Lucky they could come right away and do it. Cool again--Yea! I've run that a/c on 67 degrees ever since.

After traumatic events I always have this compulsion to get a haircut. I had been whacking on my hair myself and it was a mess, so it needed a good cut anyway. Went to Wallymart and a young stylist looked at me and said "You've been chopping on your hair. I'll try to fix it." I asked her to cut my hair dry. They're taught to cut hair wet, and when it's dried it looks like your hair shrank. I asked her to cut off everything that stuck out and everything that hung unevenly underneath. And she did, gave me a great haircut and I left her a good tip.


But this is the thing when I go to salons. I ask them to get a fresh comb out of the box or wrapper and clean their scissors with disinfectant before using their equipment on me. Who knows what head of hair that comb went through last? Maybe somebody with cooties or eczema or god knows what else. That's why the stylist deserved that tip--she listened to me and did as I asked. She might have rolled her eyes behind my back, but I flat don't care.
Now I'm cooled and cut but think the washer is on the way out now--oops!

susil