So, for those of you not summering in New England, this summer has been very warm...this week especially. It was pushing 100* in Rhode Island on Thursday and once the sun went down it didn't get much cooler.
As I've been doing for the past couple of weeks, I turned on my air conditioner in my bedroom as I was getting ready for bed. I also sleep with a small fan facing me on my nightstand because I'm a glutton. I think I was a dog in a moving car in a past life.
Anyways, I woke up this morning in a puddle of my own nightsweat. "Totally gross. Why?" you ask. Well, in the middle of the night, my air conditioner decided to blow a fuse. God only knows how I didn't wake up but when my alarm went off this morning these were the thoughts going through my head:
"God damn, it's hot!"
"Why is it so quiet in here?"
"If that switch is in the 'on' position, why is it not on?"
"Did the power go out?"
"It couldn't have gone out because my clock's not blinking...and the lights work."
"Kate is going to kill me!" (Kate was spending the evening on an aerobed in my living room when this heat wave travesty occurred.)
Luckily, I went to the fusebox in the kitchen and simply flipped a switch and all was right in the world.
(Kate also survived.)
"I'm Mr. Green Christmas. I'm Mr. Sun. I'm Mr. Heat Blister. I'm Mr. 101. They call me Heat Miser. Whatever I touch, starts to melt in my clutch. I'm too much."
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