All right, it's time to admit it: it's been a bit of a slump, as far as blogging frequency goes. So I'll try to do a post every day for a week, and see how that works.
Today's subject: it's hot. By far, the biggest adjustment I've had to make since moving to Ontario way back in 2008 is the weather. Milder winters, fine; I never had a problem with the cold winters of Saskatchewan anyway. (That is, until I moved here--now, I go back for X-Mas, and the cold temperatures turn me into an ice cube. Go figure.) It's the humidity in the summer that kills me. Literally, I think the humidity is killing me. It certainly precipitated my asthma, and anyone who has to spend more than a little time around me knows that my periodic cough certainly sounds like I'm dying. Until recently, it hasn't been too bad, but the recent return to summer weather has meant that complicated things like movement create sticky, sweaty messes best left for other days. Right now, I'm sitting in front of a laptop (granted, not a great activity for producing less heat) at 11:30 pm at night, and it's still 20 degrees. Agh. The kicker is that the house I'm living in has air conditioning. I could turn it on. The roommates are out, and the landlord pays the utilities. No one would ever know. No one... would ever.. know. And yet, here I am. Is it masochism? Is it a desire to conserve energy? Deep down, do I feel like I deserve to be sweaty? Maybe, probably, you're thinking too much, go to bed.
Tune in next time, to find out what I can complain about tomorrow.
I caved and turned on the AC when it hit 26.5 degrees in my apartment. If you're not paying for it, there's definitely no reason not to turn it on.
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