Heat

This weekend was the first warm weekend of the summer. Washington, DC normally has sticky, humid summers which begin almost clockwork on Memorial Day weekend: a fine "howdy-do" of surprise misery without so much as a slow spiral into the summery temperatures. This year, Memorial Day weekend was glorious in weather, but the following weekend, this past weekend, was an adventure in hazy sunshine... and sweat.

But... before you say, "This is a modern culture with modern amenities like air-conditioning", what I'm speaking about is the sweat inside my house. My house, not even 5 years old, was 85-degrees over the weekend, with air-conditioning on full-blast and confused cats looking at me in overheated concern.

I was even offered some fine advice: "old houses are built better and they are like iceboxes when conditioned well..." didn't help much. I panted like a poodle. My hair curled in the misty humidity. I thought about how much money I throw at the electric company for the effort of the air... which wasn't conditioning me.

Here's my point: I used to live outside, around the country, in a van and then a little trailer. I performed on the Renaissance Festival circuit, when living quarters were anything which shaded from sun and protected from rain. Usually, that was the full deal: very little modernity, definately no frosty air to cool the day or night.

And now, far removed from my many years on the road, I sweat under an electric fan and I whine about it.

I now choose to be grateful for having a place (at all!) for my stuff and indoor plumbing... and even a phone to call the air-conditioning repairman. What's a few beads of sweat in exchange for the reminder of how glorious my life is?