Blowing hot and cold 

Today was both a bland, worky day and a day of extremes. More drama at the White House breaking out over Twitter and a boring paper of no consequence that I have to write, which nobody is going to want to read. I guess technically it started at around 2.30 am when I awoke in the stifling heat, aware that somehow my last act of resistance had met with no opposition.

There is a constant war in our house over the air conditioning. My husband hates it but as I feel the heat, I like to switch it on to help me, you know, live. I find it difficult to understand his objections as I do not refuse to allow a heater or electric blanket in winter when his tiny body is feeling the cold. Why would he want to deny me the equivalent comfort in Summer?

I went to bed and left it on. He switched it off and followed me in. I swore, got up and switched it back on. For once he left it at that. I went to sleep, at least until 2.30 am.

I read somewhere that you should not stay in bed if, after 15 minutes, you are unable to get back to sleep. It is something to do with the association made between lying in your bed and being awake, but I find that is not the case for me. More, it is to do with the cycling thoughts that need a circuit breaker. After half an hour of lying in suffocating humidity, hoping in vain for a breeze to come in through the window, I got up.

I did not get far. Although the air con was on, it is an evaporated system, not refrigerated so its full effect in humid weather could really only be felt by lying directly under the vent in the path of the air stream. Archie was down on the carpet as well, because that is where he tends to sleep in summer anyway. I lay on the carpet directly beneath the vent and waited for the soft plume of air to reach me. As it did, so did the fat furry and very warm body of Archie, who snuggled up, rolled on his back and tapped me on the arm for a belly rub.

I lay there for a while and dozed off, but everytime time I did so, Archie would register his impatience and moan a little while extended his arm towards mine encouraging it to scratch his belly again. Wearily I did so, knowing that the alternative was going to be that he rolled himself over onto his stomach and started dragging himself back and forth across the carpet, enjoying the, errr secondary benefits while moaning softly to himself until my husband woke up.

I never did get back to sleep on the floor, but I did cool down under the air, enough to be able to go into the kitchen and switch the system off. Climbing back into bed, I fell into a deep sleep which was shattered at 6.15 am by the alarm.

The air was clear but felt as thick as pea soup as I heaved myself out of bed. I pulled on shorts and  T-shirt and went down to the park. By the time I got back, I was soaking wet. It was so humid that even this gentle exercise had resulted in me drippped with sweat by the time I got home.

I jumped into the shower and rinsed off under the cold tap, which was a relief, but only temporary. Last week we had sun and rain, but today we have Kuala Lumpur – just bloody humid. After having cooled off and freshened up, just the act of making my breakfast and packing my lunch had me soaking again with sweat and my face so wet that the make up was sliding off as I tried to apply it.

Thankfully, most of my day was spent in an air conditioned office and I ended up driving the dogs to the park in the evening, because Archie would never have made it on foot. The park was cooler but everyone was walking around in a state of being semi-melted and if someone had sucked out half their will to live.

I did some shopping and made some dinner and then had another cold shower and am currently siting wrapped in a towel with the air con chugging away once more, waiting to find out what the evening has in store for us. Meanwhile, the dogs lie outside on the patio, doing what they do, because they don’t even worry about trying to change conditions that they have no control over. Maybe I should take a leaf out of their book.

 

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