Hot and Cold
Many switch out their wardrobes in the summer and winter, but I don’t do that. I need my cold-weather clothes year-round because the building where I work is freezing in the summer. Also in the winter. Usually in the spring and fall, too.
In the summer, I welcome lunchtime for all the usual reasons people live for lunch, plus for getting outside in the middle of the day, when the mid-90s, high-dew-point blaze of the sun is a relief from the arctic chill.
Figuring out what to wear can take some creativity. Because I’m totally against the possibility that I may experience even minor discomfort for any length of time, I need warm and heavy for the office, and cool and skimpy for that long, 10-minute car ride home.
Yesterday, for example, I wore spaghetti straps with a low plunge. Unacceptable for the office, but I knew no one at work would see anything but the heavy black sweater I wore over top that I sloughed off from the driver’s seat at quitting time.
In July, I often arrive to work looking like I came in the snow, and leave looking like I’m heading for the beach.
I like the heat, I think I’ve finally decided. I’m a hot weather person. There’s a lot to like about summer: swimming; long lazy days and breezy summer nights; skirts and sandals; braids; afternoon naps when it’s too hot to do anything; cool showers; weather that makes you want to peer at the sky outside and whisper in a vaguely Southern accent, “storm’s comin’.”
Summer is also ceiling fan time. I have three and I love them. I was a bit alarmed when the one in my bedroom – tied for the most important with the one by the kitchen, followed by the one in the spare room – was wobbling. I asked my father to have a look at them. He seemed to think he only needed to look at the one in my bedroom and kept trying to get me to specify which room that is.
It was during this conversation I realized that my father – after being in my condo many times, including when he helped move furniture in, and despite that fact that, although both rooms technically contain beds, only one has a dresser set while the other has bookshelves and a desk – had no idea which room was my bedroom.
Anyway, after impressing upon him the importance of examining all three fans at all three settings, and making the necessary comparisons, he said, “Ok, fine.”
Afterward, he assured me that all are “fine,” that everything in the place is “fine,” and said to “not worry about it.”
“Good! I was afraid it would fall from the ceiling and slice me to death in my sleep and –“
“I didn’t say it wouldn’t fall from the ceiling.”
So far, it hasn’t fallen from the ceiling and killed me while sleeping.
The other thing I love about summer is sleeping! I love this year-round, but summer is the time of the One Blanket Kick-off. This is when my bed has only one blanket on it instead of three to five, plus a goose-down comforter. Usually in the middle of the night, I kick off this one blanket, too, and with the fan blowing on setting 1 (2 if it’s really hot) it’s lovely.
Six months ago at this time, I would have been huddled under five Vera Bradley throws on my couch and sipping hot tea. It was dark, but crisp with cold. I thought a lot about soups and warms socks.
Actually, that warm and comfy time was pretty nice, too, now that I think about it …