My long-time Internet friend Tessa of LiveJournal fame is in NYC for a couple of days and is giving me the immense pleasure of hosting her in my Brooklyn apartment. Which means I had to, you know, actually go home to my Brooklyn apartment for the first time since it got hot. I asked my roommate earlier in the summer if he’d help me install our ginormous window unit, and he informed me that air conditioning is not necessary and that all struggling artists go without it.
So I told him I’d see him in the fall.
But I went home yesterday afternoon to prepare for Tessa’s arrival, dragged the air conditioner out of one of our many closets (because you have many closets in Brooklyn, which is perhaps the only reason to live there next to cheap beer), politely coerced my roommate into helping me lift it into place, and learned that if I kept perfectly still and sat directly in front of it, I wouldn’t sweat.
I also learned that an air conditioner meant to cool a 350 square foot apartment doesn’t cool a 900 square foot apartment. And if I just lived in Manhattan, there’s no way I’d be able to afford a 900 square foot apartment.