It’s been warm here. Yesterday was, I guess, a bit humid – I don’t know for certain because I didn’t bother to go outside – and temperatures have been in flux. I know this because two things are certain to happen once the mercury starts to rise: The Little Woman’s complaints about our lack of air conditioning will increase, and the number of outside guests – insects – wanting to explore our vast mess-filled, quasi-hoarderdom, will double.
Tired of me not wanting to carry our eight-ton air conditioning unit from the basement up to our third-floor bedroom, the Little Woman broke down and purchased a portable unit that she could install. I suppose that I should hang my head in shame and feel bad for not doing all that I could do to make this wonderful partner-o-mine happy, but as noted earlier, our existing window air conditioner weighs a lot and I hate having to transport it up three dozen steps. Worse, I hate the fact that thing seems to teeter in the window, despite my best efforts to secure it. I’ve always been afraid that the weight of the unit would shift to the outside half, and in doing so, gravity would scream out, “Come to me, baby!” In my old apartment, this was a distinct possibility, and knowing that neighborhood, if it had happened, someone would have casually walked over, grabbed the defenestrated unit, and run off with my $350 equipment. I’d be on the hook for the air conditioner, the window and frame, and the inevitable “service fees” that would follow.
I have learned to accept summer’s heat for what it is – temporary discomfort. I went to Army Basic Training during one of the hottest (and most humid) summers on record, and I survived – something all the more notable given that at the time, all of our uniforms were winter-weight fabrics. I learned to just send my mind on mini-vacations just so I didn’t have to think about how much sweat was collecting in the various crooks and crannies of my body.
But the Little Woman did not experience my high-tech, Rambo-like training, and as such, once the thermometer advances past 75°F, she’s not comfortable, nor is she hesitant in telling me so. The last few years have been interesting because, since 2005, I’ve installed our window unit just three times. Thrice in the last dozen years – think about that. It’s a miracle that she hasn’t murdered me in my sleep. But that’s all resolved now – we have an air conditioner and all should be fine, right?
Well, it would be if the temperature for the next two weeks or so was slated to be above 75°F . . . which it’s not.
And as for my second point – I’ll leave you with this image: I went to the bedroom last night, all ready for my trip to Slumbertown with Morpheus at my side. I turned on the light and in the upper corner of the far wall was an earwig – the largest one I’ve ever seen – just chilling like there was nothing wrong. How he made his way into the house is beyond me.
When I say large, I’m talking at least four inches long. As in, I could drop the Sunday edition of the New York Times on this thing and it would say, “Ow,” and keep going – it was that big.
I saw that thing and I’m sure that even Mariah Carey couldn’t have hit the notes I did – a pretty mean feat for a guy who sounds like James Earl Jones. Worse, when I jumped back – I have no shame, that thing scared the shit out of me – it disappeared. No trace, no evidence. I even doubted for a quick minute that I’d even seen it.
But no – It. Was. There. I know what I saw.
I couldn’t find it, but I did take some solace in the fact that insects generally won’t bother a sleeping person, despite the “spider” myth that everyone believes. They’ll sense one’s body heat and go off in a different direction – which is good.
Very good, in fact, but I’m still keeping my 12 gauge next to the bed tonight . . .