Arizona is hot.
No, sorry. It’s not just hot. It’s really, really HOT! With a side order of caliente. Now, I like hot weather as much, if not more than, the next guy, but I don’t like it when the temperature reaches over 85 degrees INSIDE the house I’ve got to sleep in. Now, you’d think that when someone lives in the modern age and has access to the technological wonders of both central air conditioning and electricity, they would USE them to make their homes more comfortable, wouldn’t you? Especially when they have guests, right?
Well, not if we’re talking about my in-laws, I guess.
I now understand that my mother-in-law wasn’t trying to make a joke last week. You see, she’s gotten so used to the heat here that any temperature below 80 is truly considered cold enough to freeze grain alcohol and warrants two layers of clothing and possibly a hat. Since we’ve gotten here, she’s been constantly sneaking around behind us turning off the ceiling fans because she’s cold. Meanwhile, HoBiscuit, the MightyBaby and I have all been sweating so heavily that you can tell where we’ve been by following our footstep-sized puddles. Well, you could if they didn’t evaporate so fast. And the next person to say, “At least it’s a dry heat.” is going to get a swift kick to the nads.
Unless they bring me an icy, cold drink. Then they get a kiss.
Hey, at least they let you turn on the ceiling fans. One summer, my father-in-law asked me how high he can set his thermostat. I looked at the Honeywell thermostat and raised the temp to its max. I think the highest setting was 88 degrees.
He asked, “Can it go higher that that?” I told I didn’t that was possible. “Oh, OK,” he said, ” I guess the A/C won’t turn on until the temperature INSIDE the house reaches 88. That’s fine, thank you.”
I’m fully recovered from heat stroke now.