Whenever anyone asks me if it is hot enough for me, I find myself wishing to come back with a smart ass retort like:
Hell no! I like to watch my skin actually boil in the sun’s heat.
Of course I don’t say anything like that. I just say something inane like:
Well, at least it’s not snowing!
That seems to work for Drew Carey.
I am not a fan of heat and humidity. In fact, I adore air conditioning. As a little girl I would wander in and out of any store that advertised with a sign showing a penguin that said:
Come on in! It’s Kool inside.
This sign not only was advertising Kool cigarettes, but also letting the poor suckers out in the heat know that it was air conditioned. I would head in and wait for the employees to ask me if I had any money and, if so, was I planning on spending it. I almost always had a few coins, thanks to my crafty and creative “borrowing” or from returning pop bottles.
I let the minutes tick by and tried to pretend I was looking for just the right piece of candy or cheap trinket to buy. When they weren’t looking, I would exit the store and run down the street to the next Kool place. Eventually I would spend my money and reluctantly go back home to the oven that we called home.
By the time it was nightfall and time to head to bed, the dread of laying down and sweating was enough to make me sick. I would lay by the hour wishing I could sneak out to the kitchen and get the big cast iron skillet and use it to hit myself on the head and knock myself out. By 3:00 A.M., I would be covered in a bed of sweat and worn out from tossing and turning. Finally I would pass out from sheer exhaustion and fall asleep.
In the morning, I would stumble out and try to get on with my day, hoping to have enough money to visit my beloved Kool places of business.
When I lived with Dad and my stepmother Beatrice, they had window air conditioners that would often freeze up if they were over used. They also would drip and keep you awake all night, a torture that we called ‘The Chinese Water Torture’. You would lay awake enjoying the coolness and then listen to the drip, drip, drip. It was preferable to sweating to death, but still very annoying.
When Dad and Beatrice moved to their new home, we were all adults but would return home to visit. There were plenty of bedrooms so we would stay with them. They had central air conditioning by this time and because they were older they never liked to set it too low. It seemed you would just fall to sleep and you would hear the air conditioning unit shut off. It would then become unbearably hot and I would sneak out to the hallway and turn the unit down. Again it would just be getting comfortable and I would hear Beatrice getting up and pushing the temperature back up. Once again I was doomed to a fitful night of slumber.
Thankfully, I am now the master of my own central air conditioning and I keep it plenty cool. In fact, I’m thinking about getting one of those ads for Kool cigarettes and putting it on my front door for old times’ sake!