On The Novelties Of Semi-Forced Aceticism
What's it like living in an apartment with no heat? Kind of fun, initially. Like camping out in your own home. (Like being back on the ship during winter PR, now that i think of it.) On the face of it, i like the principle. It says, I live in the tropics. I don't hide from my surroundings. I drive with my car windows down. (Particularly now that the car's temperature control is broken and stuck on Full Heat.) It injects a little adventure into daily life. My theory on that is, the less you think you want adventure, the more desperately you need it. I haven't gotten too re-mired yet in the American day-to-day, but i continue to take my precautions.
Anyway: cold. I've slept inside a number of buildings before where i could see my breath upon waking up - most recently, i think, that below-freezing week on that concrete floor in Mexico - but it's really a nice thing now and then, if you haven't tried it. At least at night. Pile on the extra blankets, and all's right with the world. Early morning, however, is a different matter. I can't make my sourdough starter work because the yeast goes on strike below sixty. The bathroom's so cold that a hot shower fills the room with steam so dense you can't see through it and end up having to feel your way out. We still haven't tried the little "warm" setting on the dial of our window A/C unit, but yesterday we swallowed our pride and cranked up the living-room space heater. After a little experimentation, that and a hot cup of coffee got things just about where they Ought To Be. If only the rest of the world were so simple.
And besides, it's still sunny out. And they're not kidding here when they call their weather schizophrenic. It'll be back up to seventy this afternoon. Lots of places lay claim to the old "if you don't like the weather, wait a few hours" thing, but this one ain't kidding. They told me that in Britain, too, but all i ever saw when i waited a few hours was more drizzle, more darkness, and the thermometer dropping from four degrees Celsius to three. I'll take my chances here.
Anyway: cold. I've slept inside a number of buildings before where i could see my breath upon waking up - most recently, i think, that below-freezing week on that concrete floor in Mexico - but it's really a nice thing now and then, if you haven't tried it. At least at night. Pile on the extra blankets, and all's right with the world. Early morning, however, is a different matter. I can't make my sourdough starter work because the yeast goes on strike below sixty. The bathroom's so cold that a hot shower fills the room with steam so dense you can't see through it and end up having to feel your way out. We still haven't tried the little "warm" setting on the dial of our window A/C unit, but yesterday we swallowed our pride and cranked up the living-room space heater. After a little experimentation, that and a hot cup of coffee got things just about where they Ought To Be. If only the rest of the world were so simple.
And besides, it's still sunny out. And they're not kidding here when they call their weather schizophrenic. It'll be back up to seventy this afternoon. Lots of places lay claim to the old "if you don't like the weather, wait a few hours" thing, but this one ain't kidding. They told me that in Britain, too, but all i ever saw when i waited a few hours was more drizzle, more darkness, and the thermometer dropping from four degrees Celsius to three. I'll take my chances here.
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