(Well, perhaps less ode and more overly dramatic whining, praise and thanksgiving.)
There is ner’ so hot a place in all the world than a place that ought not be hot at all and yet is.
It is over 90 degrees here, dearest mother nature, and it ought not be so. We are approaching a record high because, you see, it is only June. The typical temperature for this time of year is nearly ten degrees lower than this monstrous temperature. I moved here to get away from the vile suffering heat. The misery that is summer in Columbia was, I thought, a mere shimmery sweaty memory. So why oh why must it be so hot here?
At the end of a day where these beautiful mountains have been hazy from the untimely summer oppression, I come home to my little house that has no central air. Before living here, I never lived in a place without that most noble and gentle a thing as central air and, in my naiveté, was sure I needed no such device while living here in these cool mountains.
But I was wrong.
And yet…and yet…there is my hope! There is the agent of my relief! There is the creator of my respite! There she is, my little window air conditioner, working her heart out, fighting the overwhelming and ill-timed heat! There is only one of her and yet she works as though she were one of a legion, fulfilling her duty and purpose of making a small space of cool comfort for me. For me. At the end of a day where I have given away all I have to give, leaving behind only the residue of sweat, there is my little window air conditioner, giving cool air to me. Ah!