Kristin: 1, AC Unit: 1

Most of the time, I enjoy being single. I love going out with my single friends, drinking with single friends, and finding other single people with my single friends.

Most of the time, I enjoy being single… except for when I have a DIY project involving heavy and/or awkward lifting, then I really really really wish I had a big, strong, “I lift things up and put them down” manfriend to help.

Let’s talk about Friday. Friday was “self-install air conditioner” day. Coincidently, Friday was also “be treated like a human pin cushion for thyroid testing” day. Not a good combination.

To preface, I must share that I am quite the fantastic DIY-er, if I do say so myself. I self-assembled both my large bookshelf and my full dresser that live in my bedroom, and since I purchase all of my furniture from high-end wholesalers, such as Ikea or more recently the infant department of Target, I have started to look at DIY projects as adult puzzles. I love puzzles.

Admittedly, my self-assembly confidence has always been quite inflated, as I never require help with anything household related and convince myself that it is possible to do alone, regardless of what the directions recommend [Hi.Ihavenoboyfriendandifidontdoititdoesntgetdone] I think, “Self, you bought, carried, assembled and installed real furniture, that you use daily. How hard could it be to put an air conditioner in your window?”

Evidently, very hard.

I should have realized that things weren’t going to work out between me and the AC unit when I couldn’t figure out how to get said air conditioner out of box. It also should have been clear when I had a difficult time actually comprehending the self-assembly directions [I blame you, Frigidaire]. Perhaps this would have been a good time to pause and think about what my body had already been in the earlier parts of my day: Self, maybe you can install an air conditioner on a day when you didn’t have 6 vials of blood taken, a tetanus shot, 3 x-rays and a cat scan…

We all know me way too well. Obviously, I forge ahead.

Blindly, and Neanderthalically (is that a word?!) I shove the unit into my window and throw the glass down. Clearly, the first attempt wasn’t my best. I then spent the next five minutes struggling with the air conditioner, repeating my choreographed dance of “place, shut window, shove in place” until I felt that it was safe enough to make it through the summer without falling three stories down.

After a final shove, I felt something wet all over the back of my hand. How is my air conditioner already leaking water? I thought to myself, and then I looked at my hand, which was now covered in my blood.

This was excellent news. I had somehow My air conditioner had somehow scratched up my entire right hand with no pain or warning. As I stop to survey the scene, I now realize that had I simply looked around during my self-installation process, I would have seen that the entire area was smeared with blood, including the back, sides and top of my air conditioner, as well as the glass of my window, and the wall next to it.

It was then that I proceeded to freak out. Self, you have already fainted once today during your human pin-cushion experiment. Is it rational to rip your other arm apart while doing something completely unnecessary?

After rinsing and wrapping my now throbbing wounds, I go back to the scene of the crime, finish installing the unit, clean up the blood, and plug it in.

I was just about ready to swear off the air conditioner and push it out the window, when I decided to turn it on.

And then it happened. The AC unit worked. And it was amazing.

You may have won the battle, AC Unit, but I won the war. Don’t think there won’t be a self-win every time I turn you on this summer.

Author’s Note: There have been several other times when I wish I had a big manfriend to help with certain things, such as:

• “Help! We can’t get the boxspring down the stairs, and either have to throw it off the roof deck, dismantle the staircase railing or cut the box spring in half”
• “Help! I can’t get the 100 pounds of assembly pieces up the stairs of my apartment and I don’t want to have to open the box and make four trips!”
• “Help! We can’t get the full keg of beer [that isn’t even for my personal consumption…I drink vodka, thanks] up to our 3^rd floor apartment for our Christmas party”
• “Help! SPIDER SPIDER killitkillitkillit”