I might have mentioned a few (or 5,000 times) in the past month or so that we've been smoldering hot during the days at PJP Buttonwood. And that marginally makes sense because it has been surface-of-the-sun hot outside for at least the last month, right?
So to keep PJP at a balmy 80 degrees, we need to set our thermostat to 67 degrees. Which sounds exactly like the sort of voodoo magic that suits the air conditioning manufacturing industry. (And not that I don't love the air conditioning manufacturing industry, because I seriously do...but no one has once ever explained any air conditioning function to me in any way that didn't require a degree from a technical college to understand).
So when our utility bill from City of Columbia arrived, I told myself to sit down and prepare for the worst. And people, LET ME TELL YOU, THE SITTING DIDN'T EVEN HELP. Our bill was $811 for 1,000 square feet. And yes, we bake. But in two ovens, not in a fleet of commercial ovens for goodness sake. This was the worst bill we've had in the 50 months we've called PJP Buttonwood our home. Frankly, I'm righteously indignant.
(For the record, if our electric bill was $811 and I was comfortably cool and maybe even need of a light jacket inside in the afternoon, well then...take my money, City of Columbia. But when my eyeliner is melting off by 11 am, I'm going to be grouchy.)
I've deduced the whole thing down to the following:
- Utility expenses have risen for everyone in the City of Columbia over the past month. By at least $229. Generally, I'm keen for a conspiracy theory. (I come from a long line of ancestors that straight up love a conspiracy theory.) But this seems excessive even for my rational tendencies.
- Our air conditioning is dying a slow, painful, drawn out death.
The terms of our lease foist the responsibility of air conditioning repair, maintenance, and replacement back on the leasee (that's us, holla). From my limited research, this seems to be common among our landlord's practices. And my shame in accepting those terms in 2013 will haunt me all of my days, but we were new at this entrepreneurial game, so I sort of got what I deserved in that negotiation. Responsibility for our air conditioner as a renter seems improbable when explained to others, but then our landlord is a billionaire and we aren't, so...WELL PLAYED, LANDLORD.
So I have no major point to make, no plan to announce, no call to action, no...nothing really. I'll pay the $811 and continually pray that our air conditioner chugs along with voodoo magic and keeps on working. But I'm still indignant, for the record. And where better to expound upon indignancy than the Internet?