AC

Prior to the dinner when my mom told me I should think about writing a will (see previous entry) she and I were in my new place. She pointed out that one of the air conditioners does not work.

In reality I'm not a big AC person. I prefer open windows in the summertime. Between this and having been away a lot since moving in I had not noticed the non-functioning AC.

But I should have caught it on the walk-through.

"Is it really not working?" I said and poked it.

You can only imagine what my Jewish mother had to say about this.

The contractor was there while my mom and I were having the discussion.

"Yes," he said, "It's never worked properly."

I was unimagineably thrilled that he waited until my mom was around to announce this.

She frowned. Mentally I added the price of a new air conditioner to the long list of costs for my new place.

The contractor came back yesterday in order to put one last plate on the wall. I gave him his check.

Then, as he was preparing to leave, the contractor got an idea regarding the AC.

"Let's switch the bad one with the one in the loft," he said, "That way the main room will be cool and the air will travel up into the second level space."

The plan took about twenty minutes to excecute. Twenty minutes of hauling two dirty metallic boxes out of walls, of having important papers laying mere feet away come perilously close to getting doused with built up condensation, twenty minutes of nearly herniating several discs moving said units up and down the loft stairs.

But then it was done. My apartment felt cooler instantly. And, miraculously, In the city of New York, a contractor had done something for free.