Whine Wine Whine

It's hot. No, I mean it. It's really really mother fucking hot. I was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona so I am more than qualified to determine when it is hot. And it is hot. Did I mention...?

I love Seattle, I really do. I love the bus driver I get sometimes who likes to punctuate every stop announcement with a cheery "Yay!" As in, "Fifth Avenue and Pike. Pike Place Market, Pier 55, Pacific Place YAY!" Although I'm not much of a giggler at 8:15am before I've had my coffee, it can be amusing.

But for some reason Seattle does not believe in air conditioning. Apparently the argument is that air con is needed perhaps two or three weeks out of the year, and therefore installing a/c doesn't make much sense.

I've got ninety seven degrees and a pool of my own sweat that beg to differ.

Personally I think just ONE DAY over 80 degrees is reason enough for a/c. I HATE being hot. It makes me whine a LOT. Even the dog has spent the past several days, ever since the heat wave started, under the bed. Probably because she can't stand to listen to me bitch anymore.

At first I tried to combat the heat by drinking cold white wine. This resulted in my being drunk and hot and, eventually, hung over. Which resulted in more whining.

We decided, not just for my own sake but for my husband's who, since he can't fit under the bed, is left as the primary audience for my whining, to buy an air conditioner.

But again Seattle stepped in and announced its unwillingness to allow me to be comfortable in my own home. Not only is a/c not installed in most residential buildings, but it discourages the purchase and use of window units as well. All the windows in our apartment, which we raved about when we first moved in because of the view and because it was May and 64 degrees, swing out. Not up and down or side to side like every other window I've ever seen, but out. On hot days, with all the windows shoved open as wide as they can go, the building looks like it's gasping for breath.

But extensive online research presented a solution: a portable air conditioner. Portable air conditioners are infamous for being a) not portable and b) not air conditioners, in the sense of actually emitting cold air. But I didn't care. An air conditioner that didn't work, I reasoned, was better than nothing. Perhaps just having it in the room would psychologically convince me I was cooler.

Once we finally came to terms with the fact that we were going to shell out several hundred dollars (because portable air conditioners, in addition to not being portable and not emitting cold air, are also much more expensive than their far superior window unit counterparts) we set off for Costco, resigned and determined to spend a month's worth of fun money on keeping my body temperature set to Bitch instead of Mega Bitch.

But it seems that, despite Seattle's overall distrust of air conditioners, Seattlites themselves adore them. With the promise of temperatures in the 90's, the entire city headed to Costco. And the entire city apparently does not sleep in till eleven like we do on weekends. No, they get up at the crack of dawn and buy out all the Costcos of all the portable air conditioners. There were still LOTS of window units left of course, because nobody in Seattle has a window that can accomodate one.

"Gee," we said to ourselves, "maybe we should have thought of this sooner." But we weren't panicking yet. No, the panicking (and the desperate whining that steadily increased in octave the more stores we went to) kicked in about four hours later after we had exhausted every possible store in the city and all were sold out of portable a/c's. With the dreaded 90 just two days away I refused to risk an online purchase. Even if we paid the astronomical $70 for expedited shipping the thing STILL would have arrived a day after the heat wave was over.

It was 9:00pm that day when we decided to try one last store that we doubted even sold air conditioners, let alone would still have one. We were shocked and delighted to find that they DID in fact have ONE portable air conditioning unit left in stock. For $600.

Anybody who knows what I'm like when I am hot does not need to be told there was no hesitation. There was groaning, certainly, and great irritation at spending savings meant for a house down-payment on an air conditioner that we HOPED would be strong enough to cool just one of the small rooms of our apartment. But no hesitation.

This air conditioner has become like a family member for several reasons. One, it has indeed cooled the bedroom down to a comfortable temperature and so I love it. I love it more than my mom. My mom is a fantastic person and I admire her a great deal but she can't cool me off when I'm hot. Two, it is about the size of a family member, the kind of family member named Uncle Somebody who is not really an uncle but who shows up to all the family gatherings and eats twice his share and everybody's leftovers and has a big gut and makes a shitload of noise but everybody is fond of him anyway. Hal 3000, as we've dubbed our little R2-D2 unit (if R2-D2 had taken steroids) is a gargantuan hunk of machinery that takes up a quarter of the bedroom and makes so much noise that a bomb could go off on the street outside and we wouldn't hear it. And Hal also eats more than his share in that our electric bill has quadrupled.

But Hal's face has a soft, friendly blue glow that gently reminds us of why we love him: 64 degrees, he gently announces in his sweet, glowing way as we drift off to sleep, rocked in the cool breeze of Hal's love.

I don't regret the addition of Hal to our family one bit. Of course, I haven't gotten the bill for Hal yet. And by the time I do, it will be back to a pleasant 75 degrees and I'll come to my senses realizing we've spent roughly $200 for each day of the heat wave to keep me from complaining.

But that's okay; I've still got the wine to fall back on.