Summer Rite of Passage

The ManCave is my refuge, my office, my home theater, and my monument to the life I led before pitching my tent here on the Eastern Shore.  Truth be told, many of my worldly possessions, if not most, fit right here in this 15' x 25' space.  I've got a storage unit for some kitchen stuff and some big furniture, but most of the rest is right here with me.

A three-bay garage gave up one third of its space for this idyllic place.  It is lightly insulated, unheated and uncooled.  I have a little radiator I use during the cold months, and during the summer, a window air conditioner.  Today is the day the AC makes its appearance.  It is a rite of passage.

Each summer, a point arises in which sitting in front of my computer with sweat dripping down my face becomes unbearable.  Today I reached that point.  I have some important work to do, and the thought of plodding through it in the heat was a non-starter.

So to the attic I go, for the annual dance with death that is the AC installation.  I carefully choose my footware, as 21 years in the Navy reinforced for me the wisdom of wearing the right shoes for the job.  I then walk the route from the AC to the window in which it will perch, moving aside the various trip hazards that have accumulated since the fall when I stored it for the winter.  The radiator I have for winter use forgoes this journey, as it sits quietly and unassumingly in a corner of the ManCave, wheeled and attractive in the spot it occupies when it is in use.  It is light, even, unlike the AC which seems to get heavier each year...apparently like its owner.

But there it is, humming away and filling the space with becooled air, and challenging me to become productive in the atmosphere it so unselfishly provides.  Damn you, air conditioner.