Something Something Hot


These last few days in our house have been a fascinating experiment incorporating elements of psychology, physiology and biology. It all started last Thursday evening, when we realized that our house was 85 degrees despite the thermostat being set at 75. I called an AC repair company first thing Friday morning, and we were informed that it would take at least a week for the replacement part to arrive. In the meantime we’ve experience a slow descent into the depths of Hell, and I’ve become convinced that we are a part of some scientific experiment.

The mornings are comparatively pleasant, in the low 80s in the house, climbing to the mid-90s in the late afternoon, and remaining scorching until after the sun sets. We’ve been spending time outside and going various places as much as possible, but we can’t completely avoid the house. So obviously we’re hot and sweaty (I’ve discovered that I can drink more water than I ever expected), and more irritable, and it’s hard to be motivated to do any word around the house. The idea of cooking with the oven makes me want to faint.

Meanwhile, I’ve started putting the bread in the fridge so it won’t spoil quickly, I had to throw out a bag of potatoes that had rotted, and anyone on Facebook has seen the candles. And the saddest part is that this is happening during the worst heat wave we’ve had in years. Last year we didn’t have a single 100-degree day, and we’re in a string of a whole week of them now. I don’t even know what to say about that, except yell “I’m sorry for whatever it was!” at the heavens.

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