|Temperature Whiplash Due
||[Jun. 12th, 2017|10:11 pm]
The chilliness has induced someone in the neighborhood to light a fire in their fireplace tonight, so not only does it feel somewhat wintry out, it smells wintry. I don't like running my gas furnace this late in spring, but at least it doesn't smell like the Garvey Theatre did after it was gutted by a fire. It was one of the traumatic experiences of my childhood— I didn't get to go to the Saturday matinée for what seemed like forever, and walking past the burned out building on the way to the bus or the stores absolutely horrified me. I would rush and try to hold my breath, but the distance was just too great. I've been repelled by the smell of burnt wood ever since.|
But I'm sure I'll miss the chilliness by Friday, when it's supposed to get up into the eighties, and I'll really miss it a lot starting a week from tomorrow when the highs will start topping 100. I'm hoping for a mild summer, but the hope is rather slender. Visions of a torrid July and August keep intruding into my thoughts, which make me grateful for the mostly mild June we've enjoyed so far. Even the stench of that fireplace can't completely ruin these last few cool nights for me.
Worse than the upcoming highs in the nineties will be the upcoming nocturnal lows in the seventies. Those arrive Saturday night. If air conditioner weather arrives this month, then there will have been no springtime gap in the high utility bills. That's something I could have done without. But there's no way I can cool the house down by night if that night never gets below 70 degrees.
Well, California will be California. Since I can't move, I'll just have to endure whatever summer throws at me. As long as it doesn't throw any actual flames I guess I'll survive, however much discomfort it brings. If it turns cooler again I'll be pleasantly surprised. I think I'll cling to that hope. And lots of cold drinks, of course.