Yesterday, if you can remember, was hot. Hot and muggy. And by the end of the day, it was as if all the filth on the sidewalks had evaporated and was floating around in midair.

Inside my apartment, it was nearly as disgusting, and while the air-conditioner struggled valiantly to cool the living room, Sasha’s room had no such newfangled technology. There’s a long story to be told about why her own air-conditioner had been sitting on the floor, under her window, for months, but no one wants to read that. Anyway, Sasha went to sleep in the airless box easily enough, but an hour later, when we checked on her, she was soaked in sweat. Something had to be done.

So I did it. I installed the air-conditioner in her window, in the dark. It did not fall to the sidewalk below. It turned on and immediately began cooling the air. I sustained only minor injuries—a burned thumb, thanks to a hot screw. (And not the kind of hot screw I prefer, either.) And, best of all, Sasha did not wake up throughout the entire endeavor.

In the world of modern urban fatherhood, there are few instantly satisfying experiences to be had. This was one of them. L’chaim!