I really hate having the A/C on 24/7, but I do so for my husband’s sleeping comfort and for the kids. Oh, all right, I guess I don’t exactly want to be sleeping in a room clogged with 80% humidity, either. But it makes me feel like such a wuss. It’s almost as I can hear one of my Swedish ancestors while he shakes his head, muttering “WE didn’t have air conditioning when we lived in the log cabin, and we survived just fine.”
Then I realize that my Swedish ancestors probably would have sawed off their right arms in order to enjoy A/C in the middle of a Midwestern August, and it makes me feel better.
(Now, if I can only get my ancestors to quit talking to me, I can shake this guilt complex once and for all.)
This morning I felt a tinge of relief when I opened the front door to let my wayward cat Lucky into the house. A cool, fresh morning! We hadn’t had one of those in so long that I just stood there with the door open for a few minutes to make sure it wasn’t my imagination.
I was careful not to lean out too far. No need letting the neighbors take a peek at my granny jammies. Not that I’m normally paranoid about stuff or think that anyone would care, but as a teacher, I’m always aware of who may be observing me. And I am painfully aware that I live next to two houses where students reside. So I’m careful, y’know? No need to have the entire school knowing that Mrs. W looks like a cross dressing Frankenstein when she wakes up. I know that … they don’t have to.
Of course, it is Saturday … 7:45 a.m. I think I’m safe.