Heat

Last Monday, the high was ninety-six, ridiculous for this part of North Carolina in June. We moved up here from Florida exactly five Junes ago and I was struck by how mild the month was, how comfortable, compared to Florida’s June heat. Well. Apparently Florida’s June followed me up here, because it sure does feel like we’re having one now.

So Monday was ridiculously hot and on Tuesday, our air conditioning broke. As we ate dinner, we noticed that the AC was running but the temperature kept climbing. At eighty-five, we knew something was up, and Jesse went outside to investigate, along with our neighbor who sells AC units. I stayed in my office, probably reading, and realized as they were outside that Sharon and I had left an open can of cheap beer in the middle of the yard in a vain attempt to lure the slugs away from our squash plants. I closed my eyes and tried to send happy thoughts of “Don’t look toward the middle of the yard, don’t look toward the middle of the yard” in that general direction.

It turned out to be our fan motor, so we toughed it out that night, sleeping with just the sheet and all the fans turned on high, tossing and turning and feeling uncomfortable. Jesse would get the part on his way to work and then make the repair after work. He offered to come home during lunch, but I told him to wait and assured him I’d find somewhere else to be during the afternoon.

Wednesday, I got up and watched A. the first part of the day, and then came home. I was planning to eat lunch and then head to a coffee shop or the beach or pretty much anywhere that was either air conditioned or would allow me to be nearly naked. But then I got caught up in writing the pitch for my book and researching agents and then it started storming and by that point I figured, well I’m used to it by now and besides I’m sweaty and awful-looking so I might as well stay. I stayed.

But that evening, Jesse realized our capacitor was bad too and we didn’t have the right part, so we were faced with another night of heat. Around 9:00, with a pounding headache, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I grabbed my wallet and keys and asked Jesse if he wanted a Frosty. We drove to Wendy’s, the one furthest from our house so as to have more time with the car’s AC blowing on us.

In the restaurant, looking disheveled and kind of wild-eyed, I ate my Frosty and shivered, enjoying the goose bumps on my arms. Neither of us said much, the heat having cooked any interesting thoughts we might have had right out of our brains. And when we’d finished our ice cream and shivered enough, we left, driving home in the dark, back to our overheated little home, to the fans just pushing the hot air around

The next morning, Jesse got the other part we needed and fixed the AC and we were giddy with relief, remarking for the rest of the week, “Oh, it’s so cold in here!” when it was seventy-seven but feeling like sixty. The cool air felt almost sinfully luxurious, so happy it made the two of us, and now as I type this the AC is running and I can feel a little breeze hitting my right arm, and it makes me feel oh-so-thankful. And while the weather makes me think more of Florida than North Carolina, as long as my house is climate-controlled, I will not complain. Much.