Of course the AC would break during a heat wave smack dab in the middle of July. Don’t get me wrong, the vents still pushed air, just not cold air. Inside it grew increasingly warm. The temperature inched higher and higher until finally, around 2 a.m., it was officially cooler outside than it was inside. I spent the night tossing, turning, and roaming the house in the dark. Sleep-deprived and heat-sick, I was lucky enough to get a repairman to the house early in the morning, and (miracle of all miracles) before noon. (Thank you Robby from Air Necessities!)
Extremes, be it a pandemic or a heat wave, tend to bring out strong emotions. And aren’t we all just trying to keep cool these days. I hope you are being gentle with yourself and others as we weather extremes together. In the meantime, perhaps you will recognize a bit of yourself in my recent poem, Blame it on the Heat. Feel free to grab an ice beverage while you read and stay cool.
Blame it on the Heat
Triple digit, relentless all day into the night, sucks life with each bead of sweat. The harsh words that came next. The forecast says eighty percent humidity. Are you kidding me? and are they factoring in all the tears? Man, this heat that suffocates skin if skin could breathe. It dares you to strip off every unnecessary piece of cloth and rub it in the face of modesty. It’s. Just. Too. Hot. Kick off the blankets at night. Blame it on the heat, the brain fog, the decision fatigue. A complete unit failure. Call the repairman. For the blown fuse, the short fuse, the complaints, the energy leak from the air conditioner which worked fine, just fine, last week. Blame it all on the heat.