I live in a tiny studio in metro Phoenix, Arizona.
In that little studio, you’d think I’m housing an airport runway.
Fair mistake. It’s only my air conditioner. Sounding like a jet engine.
A year ago, it didn’t.
It’s lodged above the bathroom ceiling, thus I’ve never seen the monster. However, the overly simplistic control panel suggests a dated and/or inexpensive model.
It’s never been whisper-quiet but neither obnoxiously loud.
Until recently … at a time when air conditioners are run 24/7 in gawd-awful unrelenting Phoenix heat that arrives in April and peaks in August.
It’s gone from a moderate rumble to a loud grumbling and rattling to a low roar of an airplane taxi-ing down a runway.
Sounds like a train gasping chug-chug-chugging while strug-strug-struggling up a soft incline.
And the smell. Yuck. Like hot metal, an overheated engine without lubrication.
And it’s not cooling as it used to.
The air conditioner is everyone’s best friend in southern Arizona during long brutally hot summers. A dying or dead cooler is torture, in some cases fatal, this time of year.
Arid desert, blazing sun, bone dry, daily temps from 110 to 116 or more (43.3 to 46.6+) … dipping to a cool 92-ish (33 C) at midnight.
So I informed the leasing office that the air conditioner is on its last leg; a work order was created.
That was two weeks ago.
I’ve waited really really patiently for maintenance to knock on the door.
Meanwhile, the machine has only worsened. Its roaring, vibrations, decreased cooling, faulty auto-control … at any moment it may give up the ghost.
After waiting weeks and patience worn thin, I followed up at the office today. I was greeted by an unknown gal who was filling in for a sick employee.
“Air conditioners that aren’t running get emergency priority,” she said in a way to suggest there’s more than a few of those around on this large property.
“I was trying to head off that breakdown by reporting the problem,” I quipped to that effect, “but it may have to become any emergency for maintenance to appear.”
We’ll see.
While waiting, stressed by this stupid covid scamdemic, excessive constant heat, oppressive isolation, my spirits really need uplifting.
Head to Netflix for that beloved longtime fav, classic parody, terrific comedy and casting, guaranteed laughs and coincidentally congruent with my current cooler situation: “Airplane.”
Allelujah, Arizona! 