Hot Child In The City

Yep, you’re reading that right. Feels like 47. That’s 117 F for all our American friends. This is Ontario weather, not Arizona weather, which means that it’s thick and sticky and disgusting. There is some wind, but instead of being refreshing it just feel like being in a convection oven. I am very grateful that I cracked this year and got an air conditioner.

The smell of window air conditioners always reminds me of summers at my grandmother’s house and the wood panelled unit she had in her living room. I would sit out on the front porch with my great-aunt and listen to baseball games on the radio with the crickets chirping and the TTC bus rolling by two blocks over. After she let me stay up later than I should have been allowed, we would go back into the chilly bungalow and I would curl up on the pull out couch in gingham summer jammies and fall asleep to the white noise of that giant air conditioner.

I can see the same thing happening tonight – just replace the ball game with Big Brother, the TTC with the GT and gingham with an old t-shirt probably stolen from some poor boy I used to date.

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