I have a frowny face today.

I’m not sure why I have such horrendous luck with central air conditioning.  Maybe it’s because I have a low heat tolerance, so naturally, it’s a great avenue for cosmic spite.  Seems as good a reason as any for it to have broken down five times over a seven year period in the last three places I lived before this one.

When I got this house, it had a nearly-brand-new, massive, high-efficiency unit that has worked pretty fantastically, keeping the pretty well-insulated place (well, the ground floor) at 68° in 110° weather without a hiccup, so I figured I had finally escaped this recurring theme.

You know, because I’m a stupidface idiot.

Since it’d be a little too ridiculous for this heavy-duty unit to break down already, the fates contrived a new, far more heinous way to deprive me of this modern comfort this time around: sewage leaking into the air ducts somewhere.

Or maybe something found its way in there and had the bad manners to die.  I don’t know; I haven’t actually tracked down what it is, yet.  Likely whatever will be the most expensive to fix.

So I could have cool air, if I wanted to choke on that air and vomit.

I don’t want to do that.

Bene vīvite.