Go away, world. Harris naps under the ceiling fan.
I try not to complain about cold weather. I do not love sub-zero temps and icy sidewalks but I make a point of not whining and moaning. I try to act like a hardy New Englander because I ought to be one after all these years. In winter our apartment is often cold, so I make soup, and bake, and drink tea. I wear sweaters and socks and a hat to bed. When the butter sitting out on the kitchen counter is too hard to spread, I turn up the thermostat. Not that it helps.
But I save up all my whiny-moany energy for summer. It was sunny and in the 90s here today, again. I was miserable. Boston felt like a clothes dryer, while my appliance of choice is a freezer. We went out to see a couple of open houses (disappointing, as expected) and do errands, and by the time we were heading home, I was light-headed and sick (and soaked) despite drinking water and wearing a hat. Breathing was an effort. I was grateful to return to our roaring, inefficient air conditioner, blasting 24/7 in the living room. It has only a slight cooling effect on our bedroom, but the cats still like to sleep on the bed under the ceiling fan, also on 24/7. I can't say the same for me.
I could list all the things I hate about hot weather, but it would be dull. Any aspect of it that you can think of, I probably hate. I will just say that I really hate taking a shower to cool off only to be in need of another shower before I'm fully dressed.
If I had easy access to a nice pool, beach, or pond every day, my attitude would do a 180, but it's not to be. I used to love hot summer days as a kid even though we didn't have air conditioning. I had access to a garden hose, a couple of great city pools, and a creek. We had the mother of all window fans, which we cleverly used in exhaust mode at night. It sucked the hot air from our bedrooms and fresh, cool air breezed in through all the other windows. There doesn't seem to be any cool night air anymore. And that's another thing I . . . you know.
Still, I resolve to be less cranky. Hardy New Englanders put up with heat, too. At least it's November now in Old New Yorker land — those five issues are taking me forever. I can't wait for the real thing.