I used to have an beautiful old window air conditioner from the 1960s that reliable pumped toxic waste into the air along with the sweet cool air for decades. It was heaven for day like this when I am dying from the temperature. At the time I cared little for the asbestos-like spores that the machine were apparently planting in my lungs. I just wanted to stop being cooked like a Thanksgiving turkey by the heat of the house.
I felt FORCED to get rid of my baby when some stupid relative brought to my attention that old air conditioners - like mine that came from India (don't ask how I got my Calcutta Angel but several men died delivering it to me from Bollywood) - had been declared a product harmful to human health because of their age and the molds that their water cooled system produced.
I understand that many lung cancers were traced to this type of air conditioner that required it's reservoir to be filled with water to work properly. Mine was quietly disposed of, like some unwanted child or barnyard animal, over the winter when no one thought I would notice.
They might have rethought that decision if they knew the bitching they would be forced to endure once I learned the truth. If you want to know the one thing that turns gentle Kal into insane killer Kal, it's when people mess with parts of my life that don't need 'adjustment'.
I am a delicate hot house orchid that needs very specific growing conditions to operate at peak efficiency. I need cool air on my face to sleep and I need a quick method to cool down at the times when being overheated turns me into a cranky psycho.
On a side note, this is the same relative who tried to tell me that my beautiful raspberry bushes needed to be trimmed despite the fact that they produced a HUGE bounty of berries for winter jams and smoothies. It's been two years and my berry bushes have never recovered. I take great joy in reminding her that her gardening knowledge is for shit each time I talk to her.
That is two strikes against her and I refuse to give her another chance to fuck with my life. Next she will be tossing out my Popsicles because they are 'fattening'.
She should remember that 2 cats and some of my Father's ashes are buried in my yard. We always have lots of room for another body and for the radishes that will no doubt grow big and wild once we plant the seeds over her.
On a separate but related issue, I just broke my beautiful computer chair because my fat ass obviously can only handle a seat made of comfortable granite. The only thing I go through more than keyboards and Russian mail-order brides are computer chairs. Gah! I am such a loser.