I have a theory. There are air conditioning people and there are open window people. I’m into open windows. To me, there’s nothing more irritating than waiting for the warmth of summer, only to return to shivery temperatures in overly air conditioned stores, banks, movie theaters.
Thankfully, my husband is an open window guy. We open up the house as soon as it’s warm enough in May and keep it open until September. In every room, we’ve got wind blowing, birds chirping–good solid summer action. The only time we turn on the air is during the very worst of heat waves.
Yesterday was the start of a mini heat wave in Toronto. Temperatures in the high nineties, humidity, water bans. Sunday night had been a hot one for sleeping, so Monday morning we decided to shut the windows, turn on the AC and cool the house down.
I hated it.
Even with the thermostat set to 77, the house felt too cold. I wandered from room to room, looking for a warm spot to park my laptop and wandered right out into the backyard. Into the searing heat. Set up my computer, brought out a cup of coffee, and sat down.
But something wasn’t right. Writing outside during a heat wave demanded more than a dirty wooden table and an umbrella crawling with bugs. I went inside and found a cotton tablecloth, set it up under my laptop. Now we were getting somewhere. Working outside in the smog and humidity was becoming an occasion. I clipped a few roses from a wild rose bush out front, plopped them into a vintage milk bottle and placed them on my tablecloth. I could almost imagine I was in a Hemingway scene, though I highly doubt he’d have written in the faded pink tablecloth. Austen, maybe?
By the time I sat down I was the envy of, well, the backyard.
I was also hotter than hell. For the tinest speck of a moment, I thought the heat might have beaten me and contemplated hauling my little scene into the kitchen. But I didn’t. And as the day grew hotter, I grew more and more acclimatized. I worked outside for about nine hours, through lunch, through the five boys swimming in the pool, through dinner. Until dusk, really. But even then I stayed outside to swim with my youngest son, Lucas.
Lucas and I finally went inside around 9:30 to watch a movie of his choice. It was nice in the house, cool. As much as I adored my day in the heat, the air conditioning felt great. Just as I sank into the couch, back in my sweatpants, sleepy with the perfect temperature of the house, the phone rang. My other son needed a ride home.
Back out into the heat for me.
Today will be even hotter, but I’m up for it. My scene outside is still set. As soon as I finish this post, find the right pajama bottoms, pour my coffee, I’m out of this closed-up house.
What about you guys–are you a/c or open window?
P.S. Stop by GalleyCat and vote for the Town House trailer…