I love my apartment, but being here all the time points out to me with a flashing neon sign its one very glaring flaw: It’s fucking hotter than hell in here.
I live on the second floor of my building. There’s very little shade, the airflow is poor, heat rises from downstairs, and when the marine layer burns off, the sun just flat-out bakes my apartment.
Consequently, even though most of my windows are open and I have 2 fans going and it’s 62 degrees outside right now, it’s still over 75 degrees in here. It was over 80 this afternoon.
When I run my window unit a/c, which I try to do minimally, it creaks and sadly fights to keep the place under 75.
There’s an apartment that might be coming open downstairs, a little more money but it’s already remodeled and it has a small patio.
I’d been considering moving down because of the foot, but right now I’m thinking I might melt before the foot gets better if I don’t move.
My previous apartment was like that. No central air and on the second floor. I tried to convince my landlord that we needed ACs in the living room (we only had them in the bedroom, and the windows in the living room didn’t allow easy installation of ACs). He balked, citing the window problems. Then one day he stopped by and I was sitting on the floor eating dinner with all the lights off, sweating profusely. A week later, all 16 units had ACs installed in the living rooms.
Oh, and after living 13 months in my new apartment, allow me to quote Dogma: “No pleasure, no rapture, no exquisite sin greater than central air.”