Autumn in Cleveland
Enough with the heat already. I can’t wait for fall. I’m sick of being hot.
It’s October. It’s supposed to be “brisk”, good running weather. But instead, I’ve been sweating in my jeans for the last three days. That’s right, jeans. I’m boycotting all summer clothes. Well, not all, I’ll wear a t-shirt or tank, but no more shorts. I refuse.
I keep looking at my fall clothes oh, so longingly. Like forbidden lovers, the call to me, an angora sweater sleeve falls from the shelf and brushes against my shoulder. I tell him “not now.” My high-heeled boots beckon me, I tell them we will be together soon. I will wear them with my tan corduroys when it gets cooler. They don’t realize it’s harder for me than it is for them.
Normally, Cleveland wouldn’t conjure up images of a tropical climate. But let me tell you, the summers here are as hot as hell. Humid as….something other than hell, because I think with all that fire, it’s probably like a nice, dry heat.
Did I mention that we have no central air? Well, we used to have a couple of units up until John took them down- one month ago. “Summer’s almost over, we don’t need these anymore. It’s been getting pretty cool at night.” He does this every year. Then I complain that it must be nice to work in an air-conditioned office all day while his wife and child are left to fend for themselves like a couple of Alaskan Huskies locked in a hot car.
This morning I checked the weather. High of 79. What the? They said it was gonna rain and be like 55 just a few days ago. Liars. It’s freezing in the morning and then at eleven o’clock you need to change all your clothes and put on more deodorant. By the time “Survivor” is on tonight I’ll be sitting on the couch bundled in a fleece blanket.
When I got dressed this morning I really had to do some thinking. I was the parent helper at my son’s preschool today. I was going to have to figure out a way to dress appropriately from 9am-12pm. I wore a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie. Twenty minutes after I got there I decided to lose the sweatshirt. The preschool teacher, who’d been wearing a cardigan, and I found ourselves tugging on our shirts and then she turned to me and said, “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”