Breakdown

It always seems to be the case that everything is working just fine. And then it isn't.

(Never fear, Mom, this post is not about my mental state. Refer to the earlier posts this week, I'm doing great.)

Nope. Instead it is about the sheer fact that everything seems to breakdown just when you need it most.

How is it possible that I have two window air conditioning units, and the one that is old as the hills, and looks to be on its very last breath, seems to work just fine...and the newer one that is shiny and white, that sits in my living/dining room, doesn't want to work?

I haven't turned it on since at least September, and I did so on Saturday to cool the place off for a bit since it was 85 degrees out, and what would you know? Nothing. Nada.

Not even a hint of a breeze, cold or lukewarm. I had maintenance in my condo building come check out both of them yesterday, and to my dismay, the newer of the two is kaput. Finished. I have to get it replaced.

And, it is slated to be near or above 90 degrees all week.

Delightful. Did I mention that I'm 13 floors up, and the window unit fits into the small space in the radiator, which seems to require someone with the appropriate skill level (and brute strength, I'd imagine) to remove the existing one and replace it with the new model that I've yet to purchase?

Which leaves me to ask the obvious: Can I hire a husband for the day?

To make matters worse, in May, I just made my very last car payment on my little beloved Jeep Liberty. Proudly, I can attest that I have not had to dump any money into her for the life of my ownership - which is just over 4 years, mind you. The 2003 model has served me well, and hasn't cost me much beyond the occasional oil change and a monthly (or so) tank of gas.

Until now.

Right as I consider the option to sell her (egad!) because of how rarely I drive, and the unnecessary nature of those three or four trips per month (can anyone say needless Target trips? Outlandishly silly IKEA visits?), the computer in the car seems to be on the fritz. It was approximately 85 degrees on Saturday when I ran out to aforementioned Target and the in-dash thermostat read 74 degrees. Now, I am a true southern girl who loves her mid-seventies days as well as anyone - but I''m no fool.

74 degrees feels a whole lot different than 85 and humid. It wasn't even close to the more affable mid-seventies range on Saturday. But my Liberty insisted it was. The compass seemed to be on track, facing West as I caroused down Addison to heaven, I mean, Target, and East as I made my way through the Wrigley Field throngs past the stadium towards home, but the temperature? Stuck at 74.

I'm devastated.

Either I have to plunk money into a car that I really ought to sell (only to sign up for Zipcar for Target runs), which just is no fun at all, or I have to sell my "excellent condition" Jeep for something less. I'm still hoping for a computerized miracle - that she was just in a mid-seventies kind of mood on Saturday and that the next time I climb inside her and nestle on the lovely leather seats, that she'll have readjusted to the normal temperature. And temperament.

But given my recent luck with electronics/machinery (you remember the Tivo fiasco, don't you?), I doubt it.

It breaks my little car and condo owner heart to admit that things just have a way of breaking down when you need them the most.

In the immortal words of Alanis, 'Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?'