Drip...drip...drip...

I will try to keep the bitching, whining and moaning to a minimum this season. Try. I can't guarantee success. Maybe it'll help if I get it out of my system right now.

It's hot.

It's too #$&*ing hot.

I'm not cut out for summer in southern Ontario. When the temperature gets much above 20 (68F, otherwise known as 'room' temperature), I get cranky, and when it settles around 30 (87F) or higher for a spell, I get downright miserable.
We get one day of lead time before the house starts exuding heat, inside and out, like a giant bellows in a blacksmith's foundry. The thermometer in the kitchen reads 28, the humidex is somewhere around sweaty-seven, and the design specs on my model of skin pallor are surely exceeded.

Nights are worse.

Yes, we do have an air conditioner in the bedroom...but if the temperature outside goes below 20 overnight, it'll freeze up, so it's only good on the nights that are still to come. So we make do with the Twindow fan, the fan at the base of the bed and a ceiling fan. Problem being that the more weight I have on me at night, the better I sleep...but on summer nights a sheet is often enough to make me start steaming.

Central air would solve this problem...if we didn't have electric baseboard heat, or if we were made of money.

There's a nice breeze coming through here now: the temperature has dropped ten degrees in the past two hours. It's still beastly hot in the house no matter how many windows we open. People wonder why I go to bed so early--it's 8:30 right now, and I'm almost ready--well, I get up at five whether I have to or not, and the biggest reason to get up at five when I don't have to is the temperature is (usually) refreshing.

Sometimes I wonder if I'd be better off living in Antarctica...