I am hot. Not in the “wah-wah-wah” *whistle whistle* kind of way, but in the “I’m going to bathe in a tub of ice cubes…those cute star-shaped ones in fact”…

Summer is my least favorite month. The kids are out of school and we send them to camp (essentially paying them to play), you have to mow a bizillion times and you can’t go outside without having to take a shower afterward. I think I took three showers the other day. Three Cold ones. Madison said, “Mommy, you are super clean today.” Sadly, after about an hour or so, I was not.

It doesn’t help that our upstairs AC is on the fritz. I am hoping the temperamental unit’s grief is eased with an inexpensive fix. Hopefully they can fix it. After all, if I have to sleep naked and in a cryogenic state, oh…I will! I’m sure my husband will support that decision, just to stop the insane complaining. God love him.

You have to understand that I am the one who wears short sleeves in the dead of winter….in New Jersey…yelling, “What’s with having the heat on folks?” At 20 degrees, onlookers, snuggled in their parkas and leather jackets, begin collecting their bundled-in-fleece-fledglings and begin inching away. Far away. As I drink my iced coffee and eat my crisp cold salad, I am not phased. It’s good to have circulating COOL air around me.

Look people, just because I grew up in Central America and then lived in Florida for many years, doesn’t mean I enjoy tanning and trudging around in spaghetti strapped dresses  – that barely hold the…ahem…”girls” up -  and flip-flops. Sure, I’ll take an icy liquored-up concoction on occasion, but when Summer hits, I’ll gladly sing a little Cole Porter (“Too Darn Hot”)…er…from the sofa. You think I jest? Last July I went to my 20th reunion with two of my friends. They laid poolside for a glowing complexion. I paid 10 bucks to go to the gym. It’s not that I don’t like being warm, I like to snuggle, but if I touch chocolate and it melts…well, someone is going to pay dearly.

Update 10-minutes later: Woot! A/C guy called and said he’s on his way. I say he’s my hero. (And he didn’t even have to don a cape or stockings!)