Today marks the first day of my final week in my current apartment. At 3 p.m. August 26th, I, Molly Kathryn Ade, will give up this apartment and embark on a new chapter of my life. But I'm not ready to move. I love this apartment. It has AC. There are perks to moving, I'm moving in with the three people I actually chose to live with in an apartment I chose to live in--I'm currently in a sublet--but those three people don't fan me constantly or blow cool air in my face on command, so really, fuck them. Growing up in Florida, AC was always a second thought to me. I never appreciated the fact that every building was a fully equipped escape from the swampy outdoors. We also didn't have heaters, and they never really crossed my mind until I came to Michigan and the roles were reversed. The heater may be cool, but air conditioning has been and always will be my day 1 bae, and for that, I must thank you.
Thank you, air conditioning...
For allowing me to accidentally leave refrigerated food out on the counter.
I've only once had to light a scented candle to cover the stench of rotten food, and to you I owe that luxury.
For encouraging me to watch Parks n Rec blooper reels on my couch for hours at a time.
Without you, I might be forced to leave my sweltering apartment for the sweltering outside, where I would actually have to do something active. Or just something.
For being so conveniently located right next to the living room couch.
I don't have to watch Mad Men in sweatpants and a blanket, but I like to watch Mad Men in sweatpants and a blanket. You've never made me compromise my dreams.
For preventing me from sleeping in pools of my own sweat.
My cheeseburger blanket is much more luxurious.
For preventing my ~overnight guests~ from sleeping in pools of their own sweat.
I haven't had any, but I'm sure if I did they'd appreciate that.
For keeping me skin cancer free.
Why lie out and tan when you can lie in and be comfortable? Spew out all the "life source of every living organism" shit you want, the sun is overrated.
For occasionally clicking in the middle of the night, making me think a murder is breaking in.
What's a good night's sleep without a little irrational fear?
For being my friend.
Let the metaphor happen.