The heat is on

The temperatures are supposed to rise well into the 90s in the coming week, which will arouse a lot of curiosity in people, as every heat wave seems to do.

So, let me save you the trouble of asking. Yes, it is hot enough for me.

For about the next month, be prepared for everyone you see, at work or at church or at social gatherings, to inform you that it’s hot. I guess they tell you this in case you have just emerged from one of those plastic bubbles like John Travolta.

I’m no meteorologist, but I believe there is a simple explanation for why it’s hot:

A. It’s August.
B. We’re in Georgia.

You will rarely hear me complain about the heat, because I hate the cold so much. I’d rather it be 100 degrees than 60. When I retire, you can visit me living in my nice little bungalow in Uganda.

That said, I’m not handling the heat as well as I used to, and I think it’s because air conditioning has spoiled us all and made us sissies. I suppose I can understand it when some New Jersey transplant complains that it’s too hot, but I’m hearing it from people who grew up in south Georgia. This is like Hugh Hefner complaining that there are too many blondes around.

I remember growing up with little or no air conditioning. We had a window unit in our house, which did a great job of cooling you off, as long as you were within 5 feet of it. This made for a lot of family togetherness on summer afternoons.

At night we’d turn it off and sleep with the windows open, so you could drift off listening to the soothing sounds of the evening – crickets chirping, cicadas singing their summer songs, a mournful train whistle in the distance, the drunken neighbors across the street having a domestic disturbance. Come of the think of it, I didn’t sleep much during the summer.

As a kid, I grew to dislike air conditioning. When we would go on vacation, my dad liked to crank the AC up so high you could kill hogs in the motel room. I would come in from the pool in my wet bathing suit, and I always dreaded going in that room. That kind of cold has an adverse impact on your body. Just picture a frightened turtle and you’ll get the picture.

Now, though, I’ve gotten used to air conditioning, so I’ve had a couple of unpleasant commutes home recently in the minivan, because the AC in it will only cool the interior to about one degree below the outside temperature. I sweat through my shirt before I even hit the interstate.

I’d roll down the window, but the air quality on the I-75/85 connector on a hot day is only slightly healthier than the air in Chernobyl. This, combined with the general irritation of driving alongside people who are text-messaging at 60 miles per hour, is going to get me on the evening news someday.

So let’s all just take it easy for a while. Go ahead and complain if you feel you must, but I’m going to enjoy it while I can. I’ll be doing plenty of complaining come January, when, most assuredly, it will be cold enough for me.