Tuesday.

8:30 AM - Workout while watching Beyond Scared Straight. Who doesn't love prick teenagers being scared into reality by big, lethal inmates?

9:45 AM - Take a nice shower while listening to some sports radio.

10:00 AM - Finished shower, thinking about what to have for lunch. Absolutely starving at this point.

10:15 AM - Whilst deciding what to have for lunch, heard some odd noises on the rooftop of our apartment. Perhaps they're fixing the antenna or the shingles or something. Not entirely out of the ordinary.

10:20 AM - Air conditioning starts. Immediately attacked by the smell of tar, which smells like a gas leak, which leads me to look up the adverse effects of inhaling tar fumes. Which leads me to finding the nearest shirt and covering my face. Overcome with nausea, wondering how in the world my AC has tar in it.

10:25 AM - Text H. and let him know that I can't be in the apartment any longer, and mention I'm eating lunch out. H. says go for it, and I'm out the door before you can say "stupid construction".

10:45 AM - Wendy's BLT Cobb Salad for lunch with a small order of fries. I waited twenty minutes in the K-Mart parking lot before (a) deciding I was hungry, then (b) deciding to be good and have a salad.

11:30 AM - After a luxurious lunch in the car in the boiling heat in a library parking lot (I have no idea why I didn't go inside), the decision is made to buy candles and air freshener.

11:45 AM - Purchase 50 tealights and the biggest bottle of Febreeze available at the local Walmart.

12:00 PM - Cautiously open door to the apartment. Cue onslaught of tar fumes rushing past my body into the midday heat. Taking a huge breath, run around the apartment spraying Febreeze anywhere and everywhere. Light half of the tealights in various places, using dishes and baking sheets to ensure wax doesn't accidentally spill everywhere.

12:15 PM - The air is now moderately breathable.

12:16 to 3:00 PM - Repeat ridiculous spraying ritual every single time the air conditioner turns on. Specifically spray all air vents every single time the smell of tar begins to waft up my nose. Move candles around the apartment to purify the air.

3:01 PM - Realize we need something for dinner and must go to grocery store. What a fabulous excuse to be out of the apartment.

3:30 PM - Return to apartment, which now smells like Febreeze and tar. Drop off the refrigerables (items to be refrigerated), head to the apartment complex front office.

3:31 PM - Have this lovely conversation with the lady at the front desk.

"Is there roof construction going on today?"
"Yeah. Didn't you get the letter?"
"Uh, no. Definitely didn't get anything saying there would be construction."
"Oh, well that's weird because we definitely sent them out ... ... ... "
"Well my apartment smells like tar."
"We've had a couple people complain, but they all said the smell went away in a few short hours."
I tell her my issues with the smell.
"Hmm. Let me go talk to (whatever the name of the other girl is)."
Waiting for fifteen minutes.
"Yeah, (whoever) says that the smell should go away in a couple of hours. When did they stop by today?"
"Ten o'clock. And it keeps happening every time the AC turns on."
"Hmm. Well that's unusual."
"Yeah, it sucks being in that apartment breathing tar fumes."
"Well, the guys have been patching the roofs because we've had leaking from the monsoon."

Okay, wait a minute, hold the phone. Last time I checked, we've had a total - not in the last week, but since the monsoon started back in July TOTAL - of two and a half inches of rain. 2.5". How in the world do you have significant roof leakage to warrant patching the roofs? Outrageous. The lady said that these apartments are ten years old (lemme tell you, they don't look older than three), so maybe they built them in a haste ten years ago. Whatever. Back to the story.

"So, the construction guys are coming back tomorrow to check on how the patching dried. If you have any other problems, just call us."

Yeah, I'll probably call you guys. Because every other time I've called the front office I've gotten the answering machine. You guys are super professional at what you do, lemme tell you.

"I will. Bye."

By the time H. arrived home from work, I was used to whatever fumes were left in the apartment. By 'used to', I mean I had a throbbing headache but could no longer smell the fumes unless I stood underneath the air conditioner. H. said he definitely smelled it, but he was getting used to it the longer he was in the apartment. Thank goodness H. agreed to frozen pizza for dinner; I had no energy left to cook more than that.

By now, the tealights have all run out of fuel, the Febreeze is 2/3 full, and the only time I can smell tar is when I walk into the bedroom as the AC runs. Apparently that's where the cold air goes first in our space. H. said that if something similar happens tomorrow, he wants to come with me down to the front office. He would like to tell them that he doesn't like being gassed in his own apartment. I very much agree.

Tomorrow is another day, and if I have to deal with fumes again, I'm going to the three-dollar theater for a couple of hours (there is no one-dollar theater). Or I could head up to a different mall, about twenty minutes away, and browse around a store called H&M. I have no idea what's in there, but I hear they have good prices. That way I can't be a theater creeper.