Here's a helpful diagram to illustrate what we're dealing with (hint: I really can't draw):
This year I waited later than usual to turn it on, becaue after having strep for two weeks I am in no hurry to inhale two decades of filth and get the black lung, or whatever, which would seriously fuck up my summer. I waited until maintenence man Shawn had time to come over and clean it.
I like Shawn not only because he seems like a nice guy, but because he says things like, "It's so hot in here you really deserve a reduction on your rent. I'm going to talk with Megan about that," and "Really, you're 27? You look so much younger."
I helped him haul the 50-pound behemoth to the back stairs, where he sprayed and scraped until the coils were shiny and silver. So I feel good about having a cool apartment without potentially poisoning myself.
Then I met my co-workers for an open house at Dan Meiners, an extremely high-end florist and interior design store where I discovered, among other things, a $65 candle, hanging terrariums, and more orchids in bloom than I've ever seen in one place.
Everyone there was beautiful, thin and most likely rich, and I would have used my hidden super power (hint: laser beams out of my eyes) to melt their fancy sno-cones if I hadn't been so eager to try one for myself.
And it's a good thing I did. Made by Fresher than Fresh, Kansas City's "first all-natural snow cone stand on wheels," the flavors bypass the traditional bullshit like cotton candy and blue raspberry and go straight for adventurous stuff actually found in nature, such as blackberry lavender, watermelon basil and, the one I tried, agave hibiscus.
The next table had beautiful cyan glass jars cooling in tubs of ice, and when we approached a dude handed us plastic cups and began pouring sample after sample of Get Real Food Company's locally-made organic soda. Available for $3 a bottle, flavors include mojito, ginger beer, rootbeer and, my favorite, Citrus Kicker, which finishes with a mild chili pepper burn.
Oh, and I also stopped at a lemonade stand for the first time ever. Two nine-year-old girls and their bored-looking older sister handed my co-worker and me two glasses of tangy pink liquid for 50 cents a pop. "It has a hint of watermelon," one of the girls said.
Ah, summer. Some days you're perfect.