h-o-t

For those keeping score at home, today is Day 8 in the great We Have No Air Conditioning Downstairs adventure.

It's hot. Our record high in the den has been 86. And other than breaking a sweat every time I go put a load of laundry in the washer, we are managing.

We've set up camp upstairs in the playroom and guest bedroom. And that is working out just fine.

My apologies right now to anybody who has ever spent or will ever spend the night and sleep on the bed upstairs in the guest bedroom. That bed is awful. But it's cool up there. So I'm sleeping on that it's-killing-my-back bed.

The Captain spent some time downstairs this weekend. He decided he would rather watch the Indianapolis 500 on the bigger TV surrounded by box fans, than watch it upstairs on the smaller TV. I wished him well and checked on him every thirty minutes to make sure he had not suffered a heat stroke.

We had a most lovely weekend actually. Lots of just laying around up there doing what we have learned to do best -- watch college baseball, play cards, read books, and take naps.

Yesterday, the Captain smoked some ribs and a big pork bootie. I guess he figured he was already hot, so it wouldn't make much difference if he just hovered over a 200 degree meat smoker all day. We took all the meat over to Connie's for dinner. She made ice cream. She is a good sister. She didn't even care that I laid down right in the middle of her kitchen floor the whole night saying, "Oh it feels so good in here. Oh it feels so good in here."

There is a rumor that the Air Conditioner Fixer Man is coming tomorrow. I won't believe it until I can actually stand in my kitchen without getting all drippy.

In the meantime, we'll be hanging out here in the crypt - with the blinds closed and all the lights off. I'll be the one occasionally sticking my head in the frig for extended periods of time and planning menus that don't require the use of an oven.