![]() I keep my boxers on and move to the next option. I’d remove my clothes, but I’m already wearing only my lucky boxers, and every time I take them off these days, I’m like: What’s so wrong with me that I’m almost a senior and I still haven’t been naked with another person? I dare my feet to walk me to the bathroom so I can take a whiz, and then I lope back out to my bedroom, and all of this cardio makes me hot enough to formally debate “cooling-off options” that don’t involve leaving my room. (Hey, you never know.) I give it twenty seconds. Like if I say it enough times, the air-conditioning fairy will arrive. ![]() “I have seriously got,” I say again, crawling to the side of the bed and tricking my body into standing upright, “to get a new air conditioner.” And then, a little louder: “I am requesting a new air conditioner from the universe.” I actually say this out loud, just to hear a voice. “I have got to get a new air conditioner.” This is the universe’s way of showing it has a sense of humor, since I am personally going on my sixth straight month of record-breaking lows. We are going on our second straight week of record-breaking highs here. ![]() Maybe the only thing worse than a midwestern winter is a midwestern summer, especially when your AC is broken. I don’t consider myself to be precious, necessarily, but give me air-conditioning or give me death. ![]()
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