Too darn hot
Near every summer since I've lived this far south has seen me sweltering through sleepless summer nights brought on by the heat. During the day I can deal with high temperatures, but I don't fare so well at night. As I mentioned yesterday, I may not be looking forward to the inevitable onset of winter with it's chill mornings, but I do savour the cool autumn evenings and I'm quite content to huddle under a duvet when it's frosty out - indeed I consider it one of the perks of winter.
However, the central heating has now been turned on in the block of flats where I live and the ambient temperature has increased dramatically. I'm not entirely sure anyone thought the central heating to be necessary, thought I suspect it's likely a pre-emptive strike against the arrival of winter. The problem I'm having is that it's not yet cold out (to my mind, at least). In fact, I consider the temperature at this time of year to be just about right: Cool enough to make duvet snuggling a pleasure, yet not cold enough to make stepping out of bed in the morning a frigidly miserable experience. Except it now it feels like the height of summer again, sleepless nights and all. And I should stress that this is with the radiators in my flat turned off - goodness know what it would be like with them turned on.
For all my complaining about the summer heat I still managed to survive the season over the years without buying a fan (though I promised myself one on more than one occasion). I find it dryly amusing that I may end up purchasing one to get me through the winter instead.
0 TrackBacks
Listed below are links to blogs that reference this entry: Too darn hot.
TrackBack URL for this entry: http://ensuingchaos.com/cgi-bin/mt/mt-tb.cgi/378
Oh, you poor wee thing. First the alarm clock, now the heating ... it's just too much! Consider this a verbal smack around the back of the head. Sorry if that seems a little harsh, but - really. If that's the most you have to kvetch about, let's be happy for you. Now I sound grumpy and horrid, sorry, I shall go and eat worm pie. I just had to have my photo taken and you know that's my personal grumble subject, so I guess I shouldn't be so mean about yours. Sorry.
Hey now, it's my party and I'll whinge if I want to. I admit, things have been a touch gloomy around here recently (I've been a touch gloomy around here recently), but I think I deserve a kvetch or two every once in a while. On the whole I think I've been pretty good (or I could simply be deluding myself).
Now, as for your photos, where can I get ahold of the negatives? :)
Truly, I am a worm - note I am today called Fiona, which is the name reserved for me only by my husband when I've done something truly heinous. Just to show you how contrite I am, I've not checked the spelling of 'heinous' even 'though I'm sure it's wrong ... that should give you some idea of the deep shame that clouds my being. How could I be nasty to such a sweet man as you, Mark? I've been feeling awful ever since and even considered asking you to take it off the comments board, but I felt I should take the heat for my sins. I'm somewhat aggrieved not to have received hate mail from your many fans. Rest assured, though, my sins have been amply addressed as, yesterday, I had to go for my annual pap smear, an ordeal which any woman will tell you is an apt punishment for the worst of crimes. Sorry!