Nudity and Salad Bowls

There comes a time in every Boston summer where the only solution is nudity and salad bowls full of iced water.

No this isn't some kinky American practice, it's called stifling heat and no air conditioning. I'm not sure I've ever been this hot. There have been holidays to hot destinations, but they are always accompanied by pools or oceans and never by kitchens that need cleaning before father-in-laws come for dinner.

(The salad bowl is for my feet by the way.)

I drive Jeremy crazy. Because while yes, I am wandering around the house sans clothes, I am also moaning my head off. Basically I off-set the lack of clothes with unattractive complaining so as far as Jeremy's concerned I may as well be wearing an astronaut suit.

But seriously, I think I might die. I am not a person who sweats. Mostly because I am a person who avoids all activities (other than sunbathing on beaches) where sweating is a consequence. I don't like sweating. It's sticky and uncomfortable and pretty gross. The dungeon basement is about the only place where the temperature is bearable and, well, I'd rather die of heat exhaustion.

The worst of it is I can't even blame Jeremy for our lack of air conditioning, because this principle is mine also. I don't believe in it - I think it puts people out of touch with their environment, it wastes tons of energy and the recycled air makes people ill. So, no blaming Jeremy on this one.

Seems complaining is the only answer. That or McDonalds. I may have principles but they have Mcflurries and air conditioning...