We've lived here for nearly 5 years, and I can count the number of time's we've turned on the AC on one hand.
(Life on the ROOF. Up high. It is ALWAYS windy here.)
The first few times were in the first summer we spent here. It may have had something to do with the fact that I weighed over 200 pounds and had a bun in the oven; a bun that was nearly cooked, and an oven that seemed to be constantly turned on HOTTER THAN HELL.
I don't do hot well.
I actually consider myself lucky that I'm fairly cold blooded. In the winter, if you're wearing 2 layers, I'm wearing 4. You're wearing 4, then I'm wearing 7. Spring, and everyone is in t-shirts? I'm the one with my sweatshirt on, and my toque in my bag, just in case.
So today, when I was effing hot, I knew that others around me were even hotter.
Proof was in Corben, who every time I picked up, started dripping sweat from each tiny spot where our skin made contact.
We gave up on clothes two days ago. The boys have been running around in their underpants/diapers. (Well, except for Steve, who I insist gets dressed before he leaves for work.) I started Monday in my underwear too, but decided to change to my bathing suit, in case the UPS guy or some random Jehovah's Witnesses showed up. (Me and the UPS guy are buddies, but we're not THAT close.)
Needless to say, there's a lot of skin for to drip around here these days.
And then there's Corben. Corben is teething, with every pore of his gums and is MIS-ER-ABLE. He's not napping, which is making him crankier. And instead of napping, or jumping, or rolling around on the floor? He's nursing. And nursing. And nursing.
And when there's all that nursing, there's lots of sweaty skin touching sweaty skin. When I pulled Corben off me after one (of a bazillion) nursing sessions today, and had to get a towel to dry us both off, I knew it was time.
I turned on the AC.
Now I don't know why I didn't do it sooner. Only now I'm also afraid I'll never go outside again.
Please, send vodka.