I think of myself as a pretty reasonable person as I don’t have very many dislikes and am usually up for anything. Besides stupid and inconsiderate people, the only thing I really hate is heat...or more precisely, being hot.
I grew up in the mountains, with six feet of snow;
and when it didn’t snow, it rained; and when it didn’t rain, the sun would only
occasionally peek out from behind the clouds as if it was shy to show its
glowing face. I loved it because I got to wear furry boots, cozy sweaters, and
sip on Earl Grey with milk and honey all day long. So why do I live in Indio
where the temperatures in the summer can easily reach 120F, you ask? Good
question. I’ll get back to you on that one as soon as I figure it out.
Every summer I suffer as the heat thickens the
blood in my veins, which in turn set off migraines that can last up to several
days at a time. But I don’t panic. Migraines are not something I can’t handle. I
just drink plenty of water, turn the a/c way down, close the shutters, and try
to sleep them off. What I can’t handle and immediately panic is when my toes
begin to sweat. Yes, that part of the body actually sweats. I found that out
just a little while ago when my neighborhood experienced a power outage.
As soon as I heard the CLICK, I lost all self
control, which I’m known to maintain under any terrifying circumstances. I
began dialing the power company at will. To no avail, of course, since the
whole neighborhood probably had the same idea and tied up the phone lines, so
all I got was the busy signal. And while the sweat was oozing down my back,
into my panties [oh, yeah, graphic details here, this is rated R], straight
through my ass-crack, only to rest in my nomad’s land, my loving husband decided
to turn on his Pandora and start playing Ziggy Marley’s When the Lights Gone Out. At first I was too preoccupied with the
small pools of sweat filling up between my toes and thighs, all the while
thinking how long it would be before I’d have to change (or just take off) my underwear,
so I didn’t realize what he was doing. But when he continued his power outage
concert with Some Like It Hot by
Robert Palmer and Glenn Frey’s The Heat
Is On, I got really fed up and told him that if he wanted some “butter”
after the power came back on, he’d better play some Ice, Ice Baby! He must not have been able to find the iconic
Vanilla Ice because soon after my threat I heard: I’m dreaming of a white Christmas...and voilà, the
power turned on!
A sigh of relief and my panic-threshold-restored-to-its-normal
later, I figured that the next time I feel powerless because of a power outage
I’ll just put on some Christmas songs and wait to get a “cool” gift.