by Shannon Gillespie
My computer hisses a half-second before I hear the whir of the fan blades on my air conditioning kick on. I’ve begun to notice this pattern, the hiss and whirr, multiple times an hour for months now — I get annoyed at the hum of the rectangular cube. I look at the neighbors’ air conditioners running at the same time, and I think of how much power we’re using to artificially cool these boxes we live in. I change nothing, because the only thing worse than my A/C running, is it not running.
This is how the whole summer works. Except it stretches to more than the summer. It starts sometime in the spring, and ends sometime in the fall — if I’m lucky. So I’m just going to say it: summer is the worst!
And, I know, I know: “But grilling and pool parties!”
When was the last time anyone actually enjoyed the half charred, half frigid offering of an incompetent grill overseer? And as for pool parties, I get it. But they’re great when everyone in the pool is in on the party which implies that the pool is privately owned. With public pools, everyone is there for a different reason. So, what is fun for one group, is miserable to another. I’m talking about that group of about 15 kids that scream, and shriek, and run around the pool, and beg to be thrown by the biggest person in their group, versus the lone lap swimmer.
Some of you may be thinking, “What about the beach?”
That only works if you live on the beach. Like if you can see it from your ground floor window. I am not referring to the real estate agent version of “on the beach”. Where potential home buyers have to squint through a tiny, attic window to see a vaguely blue line and that counts as a sea view. Sand and saltwater must be a part of your everyday struggle. At that proximity, who cares if it’s summer? The ocean still crashes into the sand in October.
“July confirmed as hottest month recorded”
“Paris sets new temperature record at 108 as Europe heat wave continues to sizzle”
I see these headlines, and wonder, “Is there no relief from summer?” A coworker told me today that if he had to describe summer in one word it would be “gross,” and I don’t disagree. Is there not a potentially magic place that isn’t miserable? Somewhere that doesn’t rely on air conditioning, and windows can be opened to allow a breeze, an actual breeze, to rush through a room? Perhaps that magic place could allow for sweaters, in many iterations, to be worn. Or better yet, a wool pea coat with the collar popped up against the wind. And if mashed potatoes could be consumed year-round, that would be a huge bonus. If you know of a place that fits this description, please let me know. And don’t suggest the southern hemisphere. I have researched it, and the logistics of moving every six months are nightmarish.
