Good Lord, I am so caffeinated right now I could barf. Seriously. The bonds holding my humble atoms together are ready to fly apart at the seams. Half of me loves it, and the other half of me wants to tell you that if this entry suddenly ends in midsentence than you know what happened. (Who will hit the little "done!" key down there when they found my disassociated remains? Someone, I hope.)

Tell the people.

Yeah, so I've been in a minor state of agitation and depression as of late, except this time it's concerning something VERY serious:

My air conditioner.

I like it cold in a room. I like it freezing. I like it to be to the point where I can use my nipples to cut diamonds. I hate the heat. Loathe it. I like to lay under a big comforter in a cold room. I prefer sweaters and jeans and boots to shorts. I am an autumn type of guy. I could go on for several paragraphs about the beauty and romance of Fall and Winter, and my distaste for sweating like a pig in Summer humidity, but I choose to not to do so. I think you get the idea anyway, as smart as you are.

So, one day last week, during the Hell on Earth that was 10 days of continuous sweaty, bloody torture, my AC (as I affectionately refer to it) suddenly decides to operate at half efficiency. This leaves my apartment tepid, hence the agitation and depression. I frettered and frittered like an anxious parent with a sick baby, even going so far as to call the 1-800 numbers and ask for advice. I even went so far as to consider calling again after the initial consultation.

It was sad. It was like having a sick relative, and I just wanted to keep pestering the doctor until they finally said "Everything will be fine, don't you worry." I only wanted the answer I wanted to hear.

Anti-climactically, my AC has decided to spring back to life. I woke up this morning, and my apartment was so cold that the sides of beef I was curing are still good, and my sperm production had tripled. So everything is a-ok in FadeIn Land.

This entry proves that sometimes you have to take the material as it comes. Speaking of good material, I must publicly commend Midge for her well-written and interesting Real World entry yesterday (I always like to pronounce Midge's diary name as 'Cajola May,' even though I know it is really 'cajole me'...to me, it reads like a made up Spanish word). I must also commend Kate on her most recent entry, a journey into hilariousness that I wish more diaries could emulate.

Getting back to being caffeinated: The reason I am in such a state is because I sadly put my girlfriend on a plane this morning. I am always more than happy to drive her to the airport, and all I ask in return is a big ol' Mocha with an extra shot of espresso. It's a little deal we have that works nicely to both of our advantages.

She got a coffee for herself as well, and she couldn't finish it during the drive, so the responsibility for cosuming her beverage was placed squarely on my shoulders. Consume it I did, and by the time I got back from O'Hare, I was more Coffee than Man. It has taken me more than half an hour to correct all the jitter-caused spelling mistakes in this entry.

Oh, and Sez: If you see a pale, busty, Jewish gal shopping for shoes in your neighborhood Monday afternoon, that would be my girlfriend. If you attempt to befriend her, I recommend taking her out for Sushi.