“If you live in a place with really hot weather, and you don’t like the weather but you have to..” via quora
Answer by Gigi J Wolf
and I have been talking about Vegas weather, so I know he wants me to reveal my hot, hot tips about living here.
I could say I just wear showgirl pasties and rhinestones, but I stopped doing that. Vinny and Guido came to my house personally, to strongly ‘request’ that I cease and desist scaring the tourists away.
Since I retired, I pretty much stay inside in the air conditioning until sometime in October.
Often, it seems as if decent weather doesn’t arrive until Halloween night, just in time for kids to hear that dreaded and feared cry, the words they hope never to hear, and which strike fear into their very marrow:
“Put a sweater on over your costume! It’s cold out!”
I go to the pool for work outs, and a wet swimsuit can really bring down the body temp. Our community pool water actually gets hot during the summer and you sweat while you work out in the pool. Very weird.
We have mainly dry summers, and in August, when the humidity gets to be, oh, around 14 percent, we will commence bitching. Same when the temperature sinks to, oh, around 60 degrees. Vegas residents are certifiable.
Our biggest weather-related calamities, outside of the occasional thunderstorm and resultant flood that carries away the random Pyramid and Eiffel Tower (which is a hoot to see bobbing around in the desert), are the third degree burns we suffer when we sit down on an unprotected car seat while wearing shorts.
But we pull our heads out of the roofs of our cars, a la Fred Flintstone, slap some salve on the backs of our thighs, and soldier on.
A week or so ago the power went out for eight hours during a storm. We had to go to bed without AC!
(It was so nice to find out that the thousands we’ve paid in bills to the power company, is going straight toward better machinery.)
Now, you may not think sleeping without AC is so terrible, compared to what many people face everyday. And I’d agree with you, if I could get the sweat out of my eyes.
I sleep in what my guy calls ‘diphtheria temperature.’ He puts on a thermal shirt and hopes he survives another night in this vale of tears. And perspiration.
I also run three fans in case the AC doesn’t make it to my spot. I end up huddled under blankets too, until all that can be seen is a blue nose, but turn it off in the night? I’ll wake up trying to breathe and kicking all the blankets off.
On the night when we lost power, we opened doors and windows and tried to enjoy the slight, rain scented breeze drifting through the house that didn’t smell of car exhaust for a change, and I pretended that I didn’t even like white noise.
That I enjoyed the soothing sounds and scents of a moist and quiet residential street at night.
Until the neighbor across the way started clearing his throat. Over and over.
It’s amazing how sound travels. And how unkind I can be about other people’s infirmities.