Hot Time In The Old Town

This summer, by the end of June, 1,011 heat records were broken around the country, including 251 new daily high records recorded on Tuesday, June 26, 2012.  I am a desert dweller in Arizona, and on that day the temperature hit 105 degrees. I had taken my mountain hike before the sun began to bake the earth, and following the example of my Mexican friends decided to take a mid-afternoon siesta.

I awoke at 4 p.m. bathed in a puddle of sweat. At this point in the story, my friend, Fay, who hails from Vicksburg, Mississippi would say, “Don’t use the ‘S’ word! Ladies don’t sweat—they perspire.” I must admit that I was thinking of another “S” word as I lifted my damp head off the pillow. In a flash, I knew that menopause was not the culprit. “Been there and done that.” So, I swam over to the thermostat and saw that the temperature in my house had risen to 80 degrees.

After many calls and pitiful pleading, I was able to extract a promise from an air-conditioning company to come fix my problem on Thursday. “But this is Tuesday, I moaned.” “Hang in there, the technician advised. Maybe we will get a cancellation and can come earlier, but right now it’s going to have to be Thursday.” So, unhappily, I gave him my cell phone number and realized that this wilting blossom was going to spend two nights in a very warm environment.

Okay, I decided. I have always wanted to go on safari in Africa. This will be my safari adventure in my own home without the mosquitoes and wild animals. I found an oscillating fan in my garage, put an ice pack on my head and went to bed. I dreamed of ice cream cones---very large, cold ice cream cones.

Wednesday morning the thermostat registered 85 degrees. I walked over to the community clubhouse, turned on the air conditioning and basked in comfort until a neighbor told me it was time for his monthly poker game and the 80-year-old “boys” were going to arrive momentarily. Since I don’t play poker and am not old enough to play with the “boys,” I went home, put on my bathing suit and sat in the swimming pool for several hours until a neighbor couldn’t stand the sight of my shriveling skin anymore and invited me to her home for a bowl of chili and a movie.

That evening my house had cooled down to 88 degrees. That was barely bearable, but I could manage. As I walked into the house, I felt something crawling on my neck. A large green grasshopper had invaded my safari camp. Since I don’t own an elephant gun, I grabbed a drinking glass and trapped the beast and threw it outside.

On Thursday, it took the technician 10 minutes to fix my air conditioner and 4 hours to cool off the house. My son telephoned me that evening from Washington, DC, and said, “We have had terrible storms. The electricity is off all over the east coast. Our house is dark and hot, and the food in the refrigerator is spoiling. I am sitting in the car to cool off. What’s new with you?” I thought about it and said, “I caught a grasshopper.”

Esther Blumenfeld (Cool off. Things could be worse)