Wednesday, July 19, 2006

012. T'under and Light'ning

I forgot to write about our escapade last night. Callie and I found a seller through craigslist and I called him. Over the phone, we agreed that we would pick it up that night, and he would drop the price down to $60. Or so I thought. So we sat on the porch waiting for Callie's friend from work to get off so he could drive us to this kids house in Cambridge. Then, it starts to lightening. No rain, just terrifying, purple lightening of DEATH. Callie and I stand at the corner waiting for Mike, and the lightening keeps lighting up the sky. Callie turns to me, "Leighann, I think God hates us." "He's punihsing us for making fun of Lauren behind her back." "Let's stop doing that." "Okay." The air is thick and heavy; it feels charged, like it will snap at any moment. I keep thinking about how, in case of a thunder storm, one of the safest places to be is inside a metal box or cage, like a car or train car. It makes an electro-magnetic feild that prevents the electricity in a lightening bolt from striking anyone inside, even if they touch the metal. Unfortunately, this will not protect you from a live wire. Finally, Mike pulls up and we get it. We head out on our way to this kids place, get lost, find where we are, and turn onto his street. I look for my phone so I can call him, but I can't find it. I left it on my bed. "It's okay, we'll just tell him we couldn't call because it died." We get to the place and there are not one or two doorbells, but SIX. "Which one do we choose?" "I don't know. You said he had an accent?" "Yeah, he sounded Indian." "There's a Chinese guy. Did he sound Chinese?" "Maybe..." "Let's try it." "Hi, this is Leighann. I'm here about the Air Conditioner. I might have the wrong apartment..." Fortunately, we chose the right bell, and the guy comes downstairs with the AC, which he hands over to Mike who falls backwards into a wall. "You said you were going to call first." "I'm sorry, did I interrupt sex?" "She left her phone at home. We're sorry." I count out the sixty dollars in front of him (it was a lot of singles), then he says, "Sixty? No, no, I won't go lower than seventy-five." My jaw drops. Did we not agree to lower the price? Then it clicks: He said, "Yeah, okay," awful fast. He didn't listen to me at all, or didn't understand me, and now he thinks I am trying to swindle him. So I launch into save-face girl and start, "I'm am so sorry for the misunderstanding. I thought we agreed...," while Callie scrounges up the other $15. We load the AC into Mike's car and drive home. In the rain. We also decided that after that night, Callie and I would never touch the AC ever again.

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