Skip to main content

hot and sweaty

This summer has been hot, with only smoe minor releif ( thank you tropical storms) in the last few weeks. Playground equipment is too hot to touch. Most of our time has been speant indoors or at the pool. Normally I like hot. I have a pretty high tolerence for it. I am usually cold. I am the girl that keeps a hoodie in her car for restraunts, movies and other public places that think below 80 is an acceptable room temperature. If I am hanging out at your house, and you happen to have a throw blanket on a chair or the back of your couch......I will probably cover up with it. I have all the AC vents in the car pointed away from me ( or closed). I sleep with multiple covers even in the summer.
This summer has been a bit of an exception. Maybe it is the extra baggage I am carrying around. When I was pregnant with O, I just felt normal ( as opposed to my usual cold). That was before very pregnant meets Texas July and August heat. I wake up sweaty. I sweat in the shower. One night I even took kitchen shears to my pajama bottoms and turned them into shorts. I had to seriously resist the tempation to do that to every full pant item I owned with a stretchy waist band.
If you think this blog is just a whiny pregnancy symptom rant. You are wrong.

See, last night.....our AC went out. No one can come out until atleast Monday.

I thought I could manage. The highs are only hitting mid-90s. This is nothing compared to 3 weeks ago. I thought about staying with friends or springing for a hotel but thought I'd rather be sweaty and in my own home than cool and somewhere else without my stuff.
24 hours later however, I am pretty sure I could ring out my clothes. I have escaped the heat by hanging out outside, at a neighbors, at school and borrowed 5 fans. Currently all 5 are running and I can't hear a thing. Owen has explored rotational motion by dropping things into the fan. The oscillating kind really amazes him. I have had to say the phrase "keep your hand out of the fan" and "Owen, stop playing with the outlets" more times than I would like today.

Lets add Shaun is sick, O got his staples out last night and had the cranky headache to go with it all night, school starts Monday, and we still owe a bit on our last major home disaster (the plumbing issue).

Shaun has been trying to fix it all day. But his temper is escalating with the temperature in our house.

I can't help but wonder about the timing. Everything seems to hit at once. I was just starting to relax about money and the baby and now I am wondering where the 4 grand for a new unit will come from ( unless Shaun manages to fix it).

I call a friend to ask her what AC service she used last and her life unfolds worse than mine. Major problems seem to be piling up on her end ( ones that make a little hot and sweaty and a few grand look like nothing).
On my way home from getting a snowcone, I see the homeless fellow I bought water for last week sleeping outside an abandoned restraunt in the heat of the afternoon. I at least have a roof right?

So I am pondering 2 things here:
1. a little perspective can go a long way.
2. (the lengthier one). I wonder something I already know the answer to. Why does God do this. I swear there is some verse about God never giving you more than you can handle.......but it sure seems like he likes to pile it on all at once. To get really close to what we can't handle. The answer I already know, and don't like to be reminded of so concretely is our need for utter dependance on him. Not dependance on the value in my savings account, or my husband's ability to fix it, or a nice comfortably cool home. But on him, and whatever he decides to throw my way.

Comments

Alyssa said…
I hope that it doesn't take replacing the whole unit to fix your problem and that they can fix the problem tomorrow so that you'll come home to a cool house after school.

Popular posts from this blog

pace yourself

Tonight I went running with a friend ten years my junior. I asked her how far she was running and when she said only about 1.5 or 2 miles, I teased her that I could go at least twice that far. And to just let me know when she needed to stop. I have been running pretty regularly for the last few weeks. It isn’t long but keep increasing my time and distance. I’ve stopped getting blisters. I don’t suck wind after five minutes anymore and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Thinking I might even be able to out run this girl who was so much younger and obviously in more shape than me. As we started to jog I told her that I run pretty slow. Like my husband used to walk beside me while I ran, slow. And she slowed her gait a little bit for me but it was still faster than I usually go. I was a little embarrassed and was not going to ask her to slow down again. So I just ran at her pace. I stayed close. And was fading fast. A little over a mile in I was ready to quit. Again, pride, which isn...

pursue something else.

Americans like the idea of happy. of pursuing happiness. It is even one of our inalienable rights at least according to the Declaration of Independance. But I think maybe we should pursue something else. like love or joy or peace or contentment. and leave happy alone. Don't read me wrong. I am neither bitter nor cynical. Even my problems are good problems. I am positive. Half full. And most days I laugh a whole lot more than I cry. And simple things like a dance party in the living room, an hour alone in Barnes and Noble, the yellow pajama pants my son picked out for me for mother's day, potstickers, clean sheets, someone surprising me with coffee, jeans fresh from the dryer, a good song on the radio, or squeals of delight when I walk in the door all make my heart sing. They make me happy. For a minute. But when the squealing turns to screaming, my new pants are dirty, the sheets are in a jumble on the floor or the coffee runs out....where does that leave me? And happy isn'...

my first dance

My wedding day is a little bit of a blur. And it was a great day. But so many people and so much going on and so many moments that it is hard to remember them all clearly without the help of photographs. But I totally remember my first dance as a bride. And it wasn’t with my husband. Or even my father, or brother. I had quickly kicked off my heels and hid them underneath a table. Said my hellos and hugs and smiled until my face hurt. Someone ushered us through the buffet line and I piled my plate with hors d'oeuvres and headed to a table. But before I could pop a single shrimp in my mouth someone grabbed me firmly by the arm and pulled me onto the dance floor and into a jitterbug before I could protest. It was my husband’s granddaddy. A man I had only met about a few times and heard say about as many words. So I was a little surprised when he spun me around the dance floor. Eventually that night I danced with my husband. And my dad. And probably even my brother. But my fir...