In which we are punished for a mild winter.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the weather this week has been a bit of a bitchslap for enjoying the mild winter. You liked those 50 degree days in January? Well, guess what? It’s 86* degrees now, bitches! I tried to get through the week without turning on the air conditioner, but when my apartment was still 80 degrees at 8:30 in the morning (when it was 10+ degrees cooler OUTSIDE), I caved to turning on the a/c. In March. In MISSOURI.

To borrow a phrase from Jen Lancaster, I live in a “three-story brick sweatbox”** with the exception that my apartment does get cold if I don’t have the heat on in the winter. So maybe not quite the same type of sweatbox, but this place can hold in the heat if it’s even a little bit warm outside.

It doesn’t help matters that I live on the first floor and, as such, refuse to leave my windows open (especially in the living room) while I’m not home. The last thing I need is to make it easier for someone to just slice open the screen and get in. You want in my apartment buddy? You’re gonna have to slice your hand on some broken glass first. And once you get in here the cats will purr you to death. (Vicious and bloodthirsty, they are not.)

Of course, now the weather outside has cooled down, but the radar shows a few more thunderstorms headed our way. Which means that, yes, the a/c is still running to keep me from sweating to death with the windows closed if and when it rains again tonight. And I’m okay with that. Just as long as I can turn it off again in a couple days.

*To be fair, that was the high yesterday. Today got up to a balmy (in comparison) 81 degrees.

**Bright Lights, Big Ass, p.52. I just read this last night and said “OMG – I TOO LIVE IN A BRICK SWEATBOX”.