Alright, so the holiday to Sydney might be called something of a bust. The room was alright, but very stuffy, the internet was patchy, and the air conditioning virtually nonexistent. Well, the proper stuff was in absentia. I had a portable unit that sounded like a train station.
Oh well! I still got to see Sydney, which was very nice indeed. I’m only just starting to go places, because Mother and Father did not let me go… well, anywhere. Not outside the house, certainly.
You notice little things, having stayed in one place for so long. Like Sydney-based air conditioning service companies, which are everywhere. Even though Mother and Father were quite well-off, they resisted the air conditioning craze, believing the old ways to be better. That’s why they always had me tending to the fire, chopping wood for the fire, clearing out the fire, and stomping out the fire instead of doing it with water or letting it burn out. And I ended up with a few burns from those little nightly chores, let me tell you!
As for cooling, my parents means were no less rustic. I would fan them for hours while they lay eating grapes, reading communist manifestos and telling me in colourful ways how they wished I didn’t exist. But who would be fanning you until their arms felt ready to drop off? Ha ha, didn’t think of that one!
Anyway, I certainly enjoyed the ability to press a button and get some relief from the humidity. That’s one thing I actually don’t have in my current apartment, despite it being sort-of modern in a lot of ways. It’s nicely insulated, but I guess it could get a little bit balmy, come the summer. Hmm… perhaps that’s something to weave into the ol’ budget. Or I could just move states, and find myself the best company for air conditioning repairs. Near Sydney, there’s sure to be quite a few competitors. But no… I’m still exploring outside Melbourne, so a gigantic move is too much of a step for now.