The Cat Days of August

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Open window, summer bliss

 

My cat Jasmine loves the heat.

When it’s ninety degrees out and full-on humidity, she hangs out in the hottest part of the house. She’s in heaven sleeping on my bedroom window sill, laying in the direct sun.  When I shut this window, she cries.  She loves the fresh air.

I know just how she feels.

Each summer, Mother Nature and I are locked in a power struggle. She blasts me with heat, and I see how long I can go without turning on the air conditioning.

And this year Mother Nature has been one tough competitor.

I don’t know why I feel this way. There’s something just so wrong about barricading yourself behind closed windows and drawn shades when it looks so beautiful outside.

There’s also something nostalgic about the heat. I spend my days running in and out of my air conditioned car to one air conditioned building after another.  But as a kid, I spent days on end running around outside in the summer.  We didn’t have central air growing up, so we cooled down with fans and popsicles and melting Nutty Buddies.  We jumped in pools, ran through sprinklers, and had the time of our lives.

So while I’ve had the air on for extended periods this summer, this past week I’ve had it off.

Mornings are the worst. There’s nothing like trying to dry off out of the shower and put on makeup when you can’t stop sweating.  And after said shower, my hair never fully dries.  Even TRESemmé can’t save my hair from the humidity onslaught.

I drink water constantly. I cover the couch with a sheet so it doesn’t smell like a gym locker room.

My house is like a hot yoga studio without the yoga.

I wonder why I put myself through this torture. I no longer wonder why I’m single.

I’m dreaming of football, and autumn leaves, and pumpkin spice lattes. But mostly of that cool, crisp air sweeping through my bedroom.  Of wearing sweaters and jeans without having the fabric stick to my legs.

Still, I won’t give in. I’ll make it to the blissful days of fall without sending my electric bill into the stratosphere.

Sure, I’m a cranky, sweaty mess.

But I get an excuse to eat Nutty Buddies, and Jasmine gets her window.

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