Bornfamous

But you know that. You’re probably sweltering too, no matter where you are–in the lower 48, at least. How hot was it? It was so hot in El Cajon yesterday [I live in the next town, La Mesa, CA] that my little Google weather widget got stuck at 111 degrees and even though it’s 6:30 in the morning and probably more like 70, it still says 111. Turns out it hit 113 in El Cajon yesterday, 109 in La Mesa. Oy.

At least it cools off at night, but the humidity–oh, the humidity! San Diego is known for its mild climate and relatively dry air–except right by the ocean–but we’ve been dripping and sticking to ourselves for weeks now. The electric bill has tripled, what with a window air conditioner in the bedroom and three fans going full blast to circulate the cool air into the rest of the apartment–not that they do a great job of it, but it beats being outside.

My lovely son and his girlfriend have a darling habit of waiting until I go to sleep and then closing the door to their room, where the air conditioner resides. I know they want their privacy but I like to be comfortable when I’m sleeping too; I’m funny that way. And you know? I’m sleeping. I can’t see or hear what’s going on in there. And it’s not like I have any privacy out in the living room, with everyone walking through on their way to and from the front door or the fridge. Does anyone care about MY privacy, or comfort? No.

But I shouldn’t complain. At least the power is still on here, unlike some parts of the county. Please, God, let it stay on. I used to complain during these increasingly long summer heat spells that if I wanted to live in New Orleans, I would have moved there–obviously, not an appropriate joke any more. So let’s change that to Florida: If I wanted to live in Florida, I would have moved there. And believe me, I don’t.

If this keeps up the mosquitoes will move in, and then there will be NO reason to live here whatsoever. None.