Thursday, July 21, 2011
I mentioned last week that my rather cranky attitude may have something to do with the arrival of summer heat. I seem to rant about it every year. This year is no exception.
No, it’s been really hot up here in my 10x11 office. The more I’m up here, the more I wonder-how exactly did our son last during those years he lived in this hot box?
It doesn’t seem to matter whom comes in to do the yearly “check” of the air-conditioner, no one can ever seem to tell us something more positive than, “you have to understand, those ducts that connect to your vents were never installed right-this is really the best you’re going to get.”
This year it seems to be unbearable to work here after about 1 p.m.. Then I realize that I’m drenched from the humidity, dizzy from the heat and dehydrated-all at the same time.
I keep on saying things along the lines of: Thank God for the whole house fans or I’d never get to sleep, We need air I tell you-someone has sucked it out of me and I have nothing to live on, If you’re coming to visit remember to bring a personal fan cuz our home is making sure Laguna Hills is covered in the heat department.
Even our poor animals seem to be looking for a place to revive. Poor Sunshine, at 15 years of age (that’s 105 for us mere mortals), you’d think the stupid unit would at least feel sorry for her and just work out of consideration for the elderly. Even Pepper is considered middle aged at 8. Heck, may I point out that I’m no spring chicken?
My mom said, “oh just turn down the thermostat and make yourselves comfortable already.”
That, my mother forgets, is easier said than done! I tried it (and did my mild-mannered and generous husband not let me forget that move for over a month) and it didn’t even work! Nope, I turned it down to 78. That unit was loud, working overtime and it never got cool ANYWHERE in this house-at least not until nightfall when we could finally turn out the whole house fans.
Sigh. Turned it down, didn’t get comfortable and then we had an electric bill that hit the triple digits. And not the low end of it either.
As I pump out this week’s blog-my tank top is wet and sticky. My hair is wet and sticky. My shorts are going where no shorts should ever go thanks to the humidity level and I feel as if I need a shower-again.
Don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like to live on the east coast. I swear I’m having the mid-afternoon deluge happening right here in what is listed on an old brochure from the housing tract as “bedroom #2”
Only thing I seem to be missing from the well-advertised eastern summer heat are the big bugs. Probably because they’re looking for a home with a better duct system where they can be comfortable.