Prepoceros

After weeks of holding my ground, standing firm against the forces determined to break my resolve, I finally gave in today . . . and turned on the air-conditioning in my apartment. On the 30th of July.

If your jaw hasn’t hit the ground yet, you probably don’t live in the South. News flash: it’s hot here. The humidity is usually close to 100%, as well, which gives the atmosphere a dank, oppressive feeling that I’ve heard compared unfavorably to the inside of a gym bag.

This summer has been relatively mild so far, at least for the time I’ve been home: this week, at the end of July, the temperatures are holding steady in the low 90s, and I have yet to see triple-digits. I am also aided in my A/C standoff by the fact that my apartment is on the first floor and, though it does have west-facing windows, they’re somewhat shaded by another building nearby. During the day the temperature inside is in the low-to-mid 80s, I would guess, which isn’t half bad.

“Still,” you say, “why not be more comfortable? Are you on a ridiculous moral crusade against all things air-conditioned?”

Yes and no. I’m a fan of A/C, really I am—several weeks of the summer here would be absolutely unbearable without it. In cars it’s an absolute necessity, though I still use mine as little as possible. A/C is good and wonderful, and life in the South would be a bitch without it (just ask anyone who lived here before the 1950s or so).

The thing is, friends, that I have long suffered from *abuse* of air-conditioning. People here go NUTS with the stuff, cranking the thermostat down to 72 or some ungodly temperature like that. Seventy-two is great for wintertime, yes, but when it’s 90 degrees outside, I tend not to be dressed in layers, so having to sit or shop in a 72-degree building is fucking torture.

People must like that sort of thing, though, because I bet it’s damn expensive to keep your books in a big ol’ icebox (I’m looking at you, Barnes & Noble). I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the heat, or maybe my metabolism is just slow as molasses, but I HATE BEING COLD. Really really. If I’m cold I can’t concentrate, I can’t sleep, I can’t do anything—my body goes into survival mode, focusing its precious energy on (1) shivering and (2) thinking about all the fun things it might do if it ever thaws out.

Where was I going with this? Oh right, my apartment. So, yes, the bitterness resulting from my being forced to freeze my ass off in the middle of July has led to my refusal to admit that wretched conditioned air into my home until the heat has so thoroughly permeated every nook and cranny that I can water the newly-sprung-up rainforest plants with my sweat*.

This luddite** practice does also save me a wee bit of money, energy prices being what they are, but that’s not the point. It’s the principle of the thing. Harrumph.

Today I flicked the switch from “Off” to “Cool,” not for my own sake—I’m comfortable at 85, both because of the aforementioned syrupy metabolism and because I don’t see the use in wearing non-essential clothing when I’m home alone***—but for Sammy’s. It’s been taking him a long time to cool off after we come in from walks (he splays out on the linoleum and I feed him ice cubes), and I figure he needs a cool place to come home to. I’ll start wearing more sweaters if it means my dog won’t die of heatstroke.

So, a small moral defeat. The bloody A/C has won again, but I never expected to make it through the whole summer anyway. I’m proud to get this far. If all goes well I’ll be able to turn it off again in a month, and the month of August will be my only concession to the seasons. During the other eleven months I will bask in the much-maligned Houston heat and revel in the joyous fact that IT’S NOT BLOODY COLD. Huzzah!

[Before anyone comments that I should set the A/C to 85 and quit making such a fuss over it, duh, that’s what thermostats are for, I would like to note that you have not met my A/C. I tried that back in April when it started to get hot and found that the machine knows nothing of 85—once that thing cycles on, it’ll keep blowing until it’s cold as balls (65, in my probably-overdramatic estimate), even if I set the temperature to 90. So I have to choose between too hot (A/C off) and too cold (A/C on) . . . which isn’t even a question. I *could* turn it on and leave the windows open to balance the chill, but that would be stupidly wasteful.]

———
* Don’t worry, I take extra showers in the summer anyway. When there’s no A/C I wash my face like four times a day because it just feels gross.

** This is indeed the adjectival form of the word, says Merriam-Webster. Sounds awkward to me, but I can’t improve on it.

*** I share this not to titillate but to explain. I’m almost always decently attired, if only because my windows (with blinds usually half-open) face the parking lot.

Tags: miscellany

This entry was posted on Monday, July 31st, 2006 at 12:47 am and is filed under miscellany. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.