Someone—my father, I think—used to joke about how he liked to hit himself with a hammer because he liked it when the pain stopped. Pretty sure it’s a common saying. Again, it’s meant as a joke, but now I’m thinking there might be something to it…
Three days ago, my Mini Cooper’s air conditioner stopped working. I turned off the car and turned it back on. Still busted.
Crap.
Why does it have to happen just as it’s getting hot again? And why does it have to happen on the holiday weekend, when there’s nobody around to fix it? And why does it have to happen when my garage clicker stopped working and I have to park outside?
Just when I’d resigned to spend the next three days sweating into my car’s fake leather and dumping bottles of ice water over my head, the AC started working again. And it’s worked ever since. I feel great about it.
Now I’m thinking the pleasure I feel about my AC working is greater than the displeasure I felt when I thought it was broke. So like I said, maybe there’s something to the hammer thing after all.
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