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Quarantined Pt 3 Thursday Reviewed

Updated: Apr 3, 2020





Day 3 - You know how there’s always someone in your life who ‘gets on your goat’?


It’s not a situation peculiar to being locked up in detention. Everyone knows the feeling - someone who’s a sour grapes, a spoilsport, an aggravating yin to your ebullient yang, who always knows what’s best for you and doesn’t hold back from nagging you constantly about it.


Well, here in my hidey-hole that annoying presence is the air-conditioning. Let’s call him AC (why I’ve gendered his powers as male when yin is usually associated with the female, I can’t imagine!).


You might remember I referred to AC in my first blog. He was blowy and wouldn’t tone down his rant, while remaining far too cool. And if I went to the trouble of heating him up, firing up his ardent passion to, say, 23 or even a shocking 25 degrees, he’d seem to go along with it for an hour or two but then resume his coolness, a consistent 21.5, citing energy savings. And during the night he was positively frigid. But it was the extreme exhibitionism of his blow-hard, pushy forcefield, even on ‘low fan’, that made him unbearable and me nauseous.


Well, I’m not sure if it was his bellicose character or the first hot cooked meal I’d received since arriving - a stale Thai tofu dish - or, more likely, the mix of these two that created conditions that were not at all soothing to my nature - and I woke at 1.30 am with a severe headache.


Forsaking a patience I’d been trying to nurture over a couple of days, I moved straight into action.


I promptly turned off AC and propped open the door to the hotel corridor for the rest of the night, devising a method of using a piece of cutlery balanced in such a way as to prevent entry by any person, yet allowing in some corridor air.


Yes, it was also AC air, I know, but not as intense or dusty, perhaps, as AC’s own personal outpourings in my private ‘petite chambre’. Admittedly, I knew I would still be under the influence of AC, or one of his kind, though it would not be so intense as being force-fed by him in my small room.