Posted tagged ‘cold shower’

“God, it was hot! Forget about frying an egg on the sidewalk; this kind of heat would fry an egg inside the chicken.”

July 27, 2015

I stood it as long as I could. I watched the thermostat go from 72 to 76 in a matter of an hour or so. When the house started to close in, I did it. I turned on the air conditioning.

Today defines humid. The air is thick and still. I think there was a bit of rain earlier as the deck was damp, but under the umbrella was dry so the rain was light and quickly came and went. I do have something on my list today, but I’m hedging and thinking tomorrow. The more comfortable I get, the less inclined I am to move. I do have the laundry going: a load in the washer and another in the dryer. The laundry bag sat by the cellar door for two days, and that was enough to motivate me. Usually I don’t move until I am just about out of unmentionables.

I am most decidedly spoiled. Life is so easy. If I’m hot, on goes the AC. If I’m cold, I raise the thermostat. My car, like most of ours, has AC so I run from the car to the store which also has AC. I get my groceries delivered right to my kitchen. Roseanna and Lee come and clean every two weeks. My yard, deck and lawn are tended to every Friday. After the lawn is cut and the walkway trimmed, the deck is blown free of debris, especially acorns. Some of them are half eaten so I think they are the red spawn’s revenge. He probably roars laughing when I step on one and howl.

When I was a kid, everyone pretty much complained about the heat. It was a local pastime. The old “hot enough for you?” was often asked though no one expected an answer. It was the summer rhetorical question. Jumping over the sprinkle was a common remedy against the heat. The water always felt really cold at first, soothing. Sometimes we’d walk to the town pool, but we also had to walk back which defeated the purpose of getting cool at the pool. We never stayed home, though, heat or not. That just wasn’t done in summer. Every day had to be lived to its fullest.

In Ghana, I encountered HEAT. Day after day was often over 100˚. My shower had no hot water, but I didn’t care. A cold shower was relief. It was like jumping over the sprinkler. We never really complained, but we did use the old “hot enough for you?” mostly as a joke. I didn’t even have a fan, didn’t think to buy one. Traveling was best done at night or in the early morning because being crammed into a lorry was never pleasant and sitting next to a window never really helped. But again, we didn’t complain. We accepted our lot and just did the best we could.

Now I complain and whine. I am getting older and believe both are my due.

“God, it was hot! Forget about frying an egg on the sidewalk; this kind of heat would fry an egg inside the chicken.”

May 31, 2013

I never did get to the garden center yesterday because Gracie and I went to the dump. She saw me bringing trash to the car despite my stealthiness and got quite excited at the prospect of going to one of her favorite places. I couldn’t disappoint her so off we went. When I got home, I sat for a bit and that small break drained me of any ambition. It was around two, and I was sitting on the couch reading and sweating because yesterday afternoon was about 84˚. Why in the heck am I sweating thought I so up I got to turn on the air-conditioner. The house was so hot it took until early evening before it was comfortably cool. This morning I went outside to see if I could turn off the air. Nope!

I had no milk or cream so Gracie and I went to Dunkin’ Donuts. She enjoyed her morning ride and I got my coffee. We are both happy with the start of our day.

I don’t remember being hot when I was young. I remember cold, but the memory of heat escapes me. We walked from one end of town to the other to go to the pool, and I remember carrying my towel and bathing suit in both directions. On the way home the wet bathing suit was wrapped in the towel. I remember walking up the huge hill on the way to the square, but I don’t remember the rest of the walk. I remember tired but not hot. At night, the air was sometimes stifling in my bedroom, but I always fell asleep anyway. It was the exhaustion of a kid in summer.

We didn’t have air-conditioning. Nobody did. We didn’t even have a fan that I remember. My mother pulled down all the shades in the house to keep it cooler. We were moles every summer.

When I lived in Ghana, some days I minded the extreme heat. I’d sit in my chair, and when I got up, the imprint of my body was in an outline of sweat on the cushions. Candles melted sideways without being lit. That’s how hot it got in the Upper Region. I didn’t have a fan then either, never even thought of buying one. I just got used to the heat as best I could. In my mind it was just part of the experience of being a Peace Corps volunteer in Africa.

Every night I’d take my cold shower, no hot water, but the first water from the pipes was always hot, warmed by the sun, and I’d wash my hair quickly. The rest of me endured the cold water. I always took my shower just before I went to bed. I had learned not to dry myself off so I could air dry once I got into bed. It was like I was my own air-conditioner. I think the Peace Corps calls that adapting.