What's not beautiful? Inside our apartment. It's 85 with a chance for even more steaminess as we head into nightfall. Here's the thing-when you live in an apartment or a high-rise, you often don't get to choose your own temperature. When Mike lived in an old apartment at the corner of State Street and Chicago Avenue, his landlord controlled the heat, so their top floor apartment felt like 95 degrees in the winter. We had to keep the windows open all the time. His roommate joked that at least 3 times a night, he had to stick his head out of the window just to get some gasps of fresh air.
In our building, the maintenance crew decides when to turn off the air conditioning for the year, and they decided to do so last week as temperatures were dropping into the 50's. But now we're back in the 70's, so it seems like their decision was a little premature. Plus when you add in the fact that we live on the 31st floor and face south, we get sun ALL day long, so it's hotter in our apartment than two mice going at it in a wool sock. I also seem to have more of a man's body temperature, because I like it really cold. My mother-in-law hates to visit because she says "She just can't warm up."
Because of the heat, I started to black out today when I was blow drying my hair! Last night, I had to sleep on the couch because our bedroom could have been mistaken for a gym sauna. Even the dogs didn't want to cuddle, and I swear our Chihuahua had sweaty 'pits.
I'm actually contemplating renting a hotel room just so I can control the temperature and have a little air. I know, I know, I'll miss this in December.
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