The Burro of Narberth
Central Air
I’m gonna tell you right up front that it's kinda embarrassing to admit
that we got central air conditioning. Tell you why. I’m third generation
Narberth, and if front porches, fans, and lemonade were good enough for my Daddy and
Granddaddy, that’s good enough for me. A little perspiration never hurt
nobody.
But, six or seven years ago, we did a little
remodeling on the homestead and the missus put her foot down and so while the guy was
fixin up the kitchen we got some air conditioning while he was at it. Still making
payments, too.
The reason I gave in
and agreed to it was because you gotta understand what happens to the missus when the hot
weather rolls in. I mean you can’t hear yourself think over the sighing and moaning.
Her whole personality changes. You’d think I was some hired hand or something. Cramps
in my feet from tiptoeing. I remember summers where we’d go a week without food
unless I went out and brought back something already cooked. One bath she took lasted
three and a half days.
Anyways, now that it's
cool in the house she’s plenty happy. But the problem is, during this heat wave
we’ve started seeing little clusters of neighbors gathering in the street outside our
place, staring at our closed windows, muttering to themselves. It’s them I can't help
feeling guilty about. I mean they can’t help it that when they were kids their
parents told 'em that air conditioning was some kind of wasteful luxury so quit
complaining.
Of course, right this minute
I ain’t feeling too guilty about the neighbors... the missus is cooking
tonight.
July 6, 1999