The Window

My bedroom window was stuck open for most of the summer.

I was too lazy to call the maintenance people, but this wasn’t a big deal because my apartment is not air conditioned and my windows are open most of the time.

I only had the urge to close my window in the middle of the night when there was thunder or police drama outside. These midnight fix-it attempts always failed because there is only so much wrestling I can do with the window before I remember that I’m exposing my underbritches to the entire neighborhood.¹

So, I would give up, and forget about the window problem.

The low point was a few days ago when there was a huge storm that blew directly into my window.

It was possibly the most pathetic scene ever: It was 3am, and I had towels spread on the window sill. The towels were weighted down with chicken noodle soup cans.² The only thing that was keeping my bedroom from flooding was the cover of a plastic storage tub that I held against the window screen with both hands.

Every gush of wind rattled the blinds and flung water onto my bed. I felt like I booked a room on the Titanic. The dog wasn’t amused.

This lasted for about an hour and I felt like a royal idiot.

But then I forgot about the window the next day.

What finally made me fix the window was a radio report that the temperature is going to dip to 46 degrees tonight.

The little Miami-boy in me said “Hells to the nah!” and I attacked the window when I came home from work. After pounding the window and pinching my finger, I finally got it to shut.

There was no way I was going to have a 46 degree wind blow on me all night. No, no, no! And my window will stay shut for the rest of the summer, because I’m not reliving my Titanic experience.

¹ It’s dark outside, my bedroom light is on, and here I am in my undershirt and underwear rattling the window…what better way of getting the neighborhood’s attention. “HELLO!”
² Can which are probably rusting now…