Air conditioning unit installation status: semi-successful

I had to buy an air conditioning unit today for my bedroom. The unit in the front room, as my landlord pointed out, is a swell unit. However, as I pointed out, my bed is in, you know, the bedroom and, moreover, I also spend most of my abundant spare time at home (last week I believe I had nearly 15 consecutive minutes of uninterrupted leisure, which I used to not quite solve a chess problem that had been puzzling me) in my back room. So we reached a compromise where, rather than him paying to have someone come in and take out the old, burnt out wall unit and replace it with a new wall unit, I would simply buy a window unit and he would do nothing. It's difficult to bargain from a position of power when you're standing in your doorway in a bathrobe and slippers with little duckies on them at 3 in the afternoon and keep trying to explain that "This is totally, like, 2 AM to my internal clock so give me a second to get my thoughts together..." so I think I got about the best possible deal under the circumstances.

Trying to install the A/C, I was reminded of Belloc's famous lines:

Lord Finchley tried to mend the electric light.

Himself. It struck him dead. And serve him right.

It is the duty of the wealthy man.

To give employment to the artisan

The problem, of course, is, that unlike Lord Finchley, Count Connor of Slackula is impecunious or, at the very least, a tightwad, and, moreover, a member of America's Classless Society (TM), and is thus expected to be able to perform very minor maintenance tasks on his own.

Status report: I picked out a hell of a sturdy A/C, which I can tell because it is still happily gurgling out cold air even after having been dropped from my window. Twice. At this point, it is relatively secure in the window (it rattles a bit but I've never been one to be too concerned over a little rattling) and the window seems to be sealed effectively, keeping the cold air in and the warm air out. There are a few parts on the floor next to the window, of course, that I couldn't quite put to use. I'm assuring myself they're superfluous and not "Something that will prove, with a horrible crashing 'thud' or a terrifying 'screech' one day, when I am sound asleep, to be absolutely vital."