What a difference 24 hours makes.
If you have not been outside yet, and I am assuming most of you are a bit more sane than me and in fact are still hugging the covers, it feels more like late September out there than mid-July.
And even more so after the last couple of soupy days.
Of course, I again have to admit that I actually LIKE that kind of weather.
In fact, I HATE to come inside, because I hate air-conditioning. It's the bane of my existence. I wait faithfully all winter and spring through all the cold and shivering, only to be greeted by the whirr of those air-conditioners as soon as there is a hint of warm temperatures.
In the office, I often find myself checking to see if I can catch my breath. That's how cold it is. My hands often feel like popsicles. I find myself going outside to warm up.
It's the same at home, although the house doesn't get nearly as cold.
I still would rather lie in bed with just a sheet - maybe nothing - covering me with the windows open, than be huddling under the covers in air-conditioned "comfort."
In the car, I am routinely the only person riding home at night with his window open. Everyone else is tightly ensconced inside their frosty vehicles.
Granted, this is not a widely-held opinion. My co-workers always blame me when a heat wave hits, they know I exult in heat and humidity.
At home, my family presses their faces up against the sliding glass doors to check on my as I sit out on the deck, drenched in my own sweat, alone with my thoughts - and the cicadas. Every once in awhile they crack open the door to see if I am still breathing.
So I want to know, am I the only one that feels this way.
Let's see a show of hands.
I hate air-conditioning. Who's with me?
And even more so after the last couple of soupy days.
Of course, I again have to admit that I actually LIKE that kind of weather.
In fact, I HATE to come inside, because I hate air-conditioning. It's the bane of my existence. I wait faithfully all winter and spring through all the cold and shivering, only to be greeted by the whirr of those air-conditioners as soon as there is a hint of warm temperatures.
In the office, I often find myself checking to see if I can catch my breath. That's how cold it is. My hands often feel like popsicles. I find myself going outside to warm up.
It's the same at home, although the house doesn't get nearly as cold.
I still would rather lie in bed with just a sheet - maybe nothing - covering me with the windows open, than be huddling under the covers in air-conditioned "comfort."
In the car, I am routinely the only person riding home at night with his window open. Everyone else is tightly ensconced inside their frosty vehicles.
Granted, this is not a widely-held opinion. My co-workers always blame me when a heat wave hits, they know I exult in heat and humidity.
At home, my family presses their faces up against the sliding glass doors to check on my as I sit out on the deck, drenched in my own sweat, alone with my thoughts - and the cicadas. Every once in awhile they crack open the door to see if I am still breathing.
So I want to know, am I the only one that feels this way.
Let's see a show of hands.
I hate air-conditioning. Who's with me?
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