Fighting For Air

The air conditioner made a horrible, terrifying clunking noise.  I jumped, then turned to glare at the offending machine.  It was still working, the fan going, but the air was not cold.  I glared some more, turned it off, turned it back on.  It worked like an air conditioner again.  I was pleased.  

And then the clunk again.

"Fuck!" I yelled to no one in particular.  "It's too fucking hot for this shit!"

The air conditioner, it seemed, did not care that I was hot and cranky.  I let it be, the fan blowing not-cold air, as I finished what I was doing.  But before I'd finished the chapter, it clicked on again, as if it had remembered it was an air conditioner again.  

"Thank you," I told it fervently.

I spoke too soon.  For not even ten minutes later, that horrible clunk again.  

"What is wrong with you?!"  I screamed.  I tossed the kindle on the futon beside me, and started tugging furniture out of the way so I could get to the window.  "You're supposed to work!  That's your job!  You want to be tilted more?  Is that your problem?  You think you're too level?  Fine.  Fine!  We'll take care of that!"

(And yes, I was aware that I was talking out loud to an inanimate object.)

I gathered the necessary tools: screwdriver to remove the screws securing it to the window, a board to prop up the front.  I unscrewed and lifted it from the sill.  The heat became stifling, sweat pouring down my face.  I glared and cursed.  Ten minutes later, the air conditioner was reinstalled with the board.  I hit the switch.  Air conditioner working as it should, I stood there, sweating and waiting.  Five minutes later, I cautiously pushed the furniture back into place.  I held my breath, waiting for the clunk to happen again the second everything was back in order.  

No clunk.

Turns out it was just a little bit too level.  It's been working fine ever since.  Thank the gods and goddesses.