Every year, usually sometime between the first heat advisory and the moment my steering wheel heats up like a curling iron, I write a column about how much I hate the heat.
It has become a summer tradition.
Some people go to the lake. Some people make homemade ice cream. Some people grow tomatoes. I sit in front of a fan with an ice cold Body Armor and publicly complain about the sun.
And every year, without fail, someone tells me the same thing: “You’ll miss this when it’s 30 degrees outside.”
No. I won’t.
I know this because every year it eventually becomes 30 degrees outside, and every year I walk out into that cold air, take a deep breath and think, “Thank goodness I am not sweating.”
Not once have I stood outside in January, teeth chattering and fingers numb, longing for the days when the seat belt buckle could leave a permanent brand on my hip.
I have never scraped frost from my windshield and whispered, “I sure do miss getting third-degree burns from this thing.”
When it is 30 degrees outside, I am not dreaming of summer. I am thinking about how manageable my life suddenly feels.
Cold has solutions.
If I am cold, I can put on a sweater. If I am still cold, I can add a hoodie. I can wear thick socks, wrap myself in a blanket and hold a warm drink with both hands like I am starring in a Christmas movie. If none of that works, I can put on another blanket.
There is a plan.
Heat does not work that way. There are only so many layers a person can remove before the police become involved.
We have now endured what feels like a full month of temperatures above 100 degrees. I do not know whether it has actually been that long. Time loses all meaning when every day feels like someone opened an oven and forced us to live inside it.
At this point, I no longer check the forecast to see whether it will be hot. I check to see what particular variety of hot we are getting.
Will it be regular hot?
Dangerously hot?
“Do not touch anything made of metal” hot?
Or the special Oklahoma variety where the weather app says it feels like 112 degrees and you begin to wonder what we did to make the atmosphere so angry?
Even the breeze has stopped helping. A breeze is supposed to offer relief. Lately, it feels like someone turned a hair dryer toward my face.
Ordinary activities have become endurance events. Walking from the house to the car requires preparation, hydration and possibly a support team. Bringing in groceries becomes a race against time because the ice cream is melting, the milk is curdling and I am reconsidering every life decision that led me to this driveway.
The dogs go outside, immediately remember what season it is and look back at the door as if I have betrayed them.
The air conditioner is no longer an appliance. It is a beloved member of the family. I speak kindly to it. I try not to overwork it. I listen carefully for any unusual sounds. If it ever asks for a seat at the dinner table, it can have mine.
Still, I am trying not to be entirely negative about summer.
There are good things about this season. There are long evenings, fresh fruit, softball, swimming pools, ice cream trucks, county fairs, cold watermelon and children running through sprinklers. There are sunsets that stretch across the sky in shades of orange and pink. There are fireflies, porch conversations and the smell of rain hitting hot pavement.
Summer can be lovely.
I would simply prefer to enjoy it from inside an air-conditioned building while looking through a window.
I know some people genuinely love this weather. They thrive in it. They sit outside, soak up the sunshine and say things like, “It’s not that bad in the shade.”
I admire those people. I do not understand them, but I admire them.
As for me, I am ready for the day when I step outside and the air does not immediately sit on my chest. I am ready for sweaters, warm drinks and car seats that do not fight back. I am ready to complain that my hands are cold while feeling secretly delighted about it. I am ready to walk outside and breathe in that crisp, cold, winter air that fills your lungs and wakes you up like nothing else can. And when winter arrives, someone will undoubtedly ask whether I miss these blazing summer days.
I will pull my coat tighter, look out across my beautiful little arctic tundra and give the same answer I give every year.
Not even a little bit.
Be kind to your neighbors, Be kind to your pets, And please be kind to your air conditioner, it is doing its best.