I’m sitting here reading a book (not Wench) and it spoke of the really hot summer and how the people would go to movies and restaurants to seek refuge from the heat and I had a flashback.
Picture it…Columbus, 1998…
I was living in an old apartment that was one of four units of a converted house. It was an upstairs unit and the building was all brick. An oven. My unit was not really a studio and not quite a one-bedroom. It had a huge closet and bathroom, was clean and very centrally located. The only problem- it didn’t have central air. Or a window unit for that matter. For most of the summer it didn’t bother me so much. I had window fans that kept the circulation flowing.
But one night, one hot, steamy night it was so hot it was unbearable. I remember laying in the center of my bed on top of the sheets, butterball nekkid and drenched with sweat. It was so hot I couldn’t breathe, let alone sleep. Before long I said screw it and got dressed, grabbed my keys and went to my car. I turned on the AC, layed the seat back and slept.
I probably slept in the car like that for two hours, but then I either got creeped out or realized I was wasting gas or whatever. I called my then-boyfriend and future ex-husband and told him I needed refuge. After making the 15 minute drive to his house, I slipped between the cool sheets, rested my head on the pillow and was out. I decided that night that I had to move. I wasn’t cut out for living like that. I moved before the end of the summer.
Sadly, that wasn’t the worst place I ever lived. The worst place involved Minnie and Mickey and Mickey Jr. But I’ll save that story for another day.
What’s the worst place you ever lived? What’s the one luxury you cannot live without? For me, it’s central air.