It’s 90 degrees in my house. The A/C is kaput. The good news is there are men here putting in a whole new unit. The bad news is, I can’t even run the fan while they’re doing that. So it’s just sit and wait. And it feels hotter in here than it has for the last few days, even though the A/C hasn’t worked for a while. I think it’s kind of like the thing when you have to go to the bathroom, but you’re in your car, 15 minutes away from home and the closer you get to the house, the more you have to pee. It’s excruciating and gets worse and worse, as you unstrap your toddler from her car seat, fumble to put the keys in the lock, and run to the bathroom just as your 8 yo little girl–the slooooowest pee-er in the entire universe–shuts the door with a “I’ll just be a minute.” As you do the potty dance outside the door, seconds away from sweet, sweet relief, you feel like your bladder is going to explode. The bathroom is right there and knowing that fact makes you have to go all the more.
Wait. Where was I going with that? Oh yeah. Sitting in a 90 degree house while men are outside for 5 hours, putting in the one thing that will cool you off, is exactly like having to pee. The longer it takes and the closer you are, the worse it feels. I’m hyper aware of how stinkin’ hot it is.
I’m going to use heat exhaustion as an excuse for the bathroom analogy. It’s the best thing I could come up with, in my weakened and sweaty state.
Is there anything worse than sweating in your house while you’re sitting still? I don’t like to sweat ever. That’s why I don’t exercise. Well, that and the fact that I’m extremely lazy. My aversion to sweat is unfortunate, as I live in Coastal Georgia–a virtual sauna with biting fire ants, sand gnats, and a thriving mosquito community thrown in for good measure. And hurricanes. Seriously, what am I doing here? Why aren’t I in Satsop, Washington, where it’s a lovely 53 degrees? Or Sublimity, Oregon , both for the coolness of its weather and its name?
The kids are getting restless and with every degree get a little more annoying. They’re all covered in sweat, looking like they just got out of the shower, because they haven’t learned that when you’re hot, it’s best to just sit still. No, they’re bouncing off the walls and getting meaner by the second. If I could move, I’d do something about it. As I can’t, I’ll just sit here and scream at them to stop and they’ll go on being awful, as they learned at a very early age to tune out mom-shrieking.
I will say that being hot makes my kids cuter. They get that rosy glow to their cheeks and a sparkle in their eye. You know the one. The on-the-edge-of-lunacy sparkle? Oh, and the 2yo, whose blonde, crazy hair gets curlier and curlier the more she sweats? Is gorgeous. Good thing, too, because she’s the meanest of them all. She literally clawed her brother’s eye a few minutes ago while doing her baby pterodactyl shriek. She takes after me. Well, except for the gorgeous part.
Oh, good news! The AC guy is finished! The system is up and running. In a little while, maybe the kids will return to their normal, only slightly annoying selves. It’s not like I’ll notice. I’ll have my face plastered against the only accessible air vent, greedily hogging the cold air.
It’s good to be the parent.