I'm Mr Heat-Miser, I'm Mr Sun...

(So, can you place the song snippet from the title?)

Mid July.
Wisconsin.
Thermometer: 95 degrees F.
Humidity: mid 90%.
Air conditioning: absent. (cue the tragic organ music)

Poor Charles. He really has a hard time with heat and humidity. Must be that thick Canadian blood. His mother is even more miserable in such conditions. Having the A/C break the night before last did not make him Mr Happy, although he valiantly tried to hide the fact. Thankfully, the heaven-sent A/C fixer guy was able to come out yesterday and partially fix it. Fixed it so cool air flows from the vents, even though the fan must stay on, having jury-rigged something bypassing something else. He promised to return today and finish the fixing. (mutter-something-mutter-circuit board short-mutter-water damage from leak-mutter). Cost? Doesn't matter as we can't live without it any more than we can live without oxygen, In fact, given the choice, I believe Charles would prefer to die cool, de-oxygenated, and gasping for breath than hot, oxygenated, and gasping for breath. He probably has a point.

Yes, I too, found it unpleasant, but heat does not bother me as much. A case in point: In the way-back days, when I was a high-school cross-country runner, I always did best in races involving hills and heat. I felt miserable, just not as miserable as most everyone else. Not sure what that says about me.

Obviously, this makes for some vacation destination disagreements. My idea of nirvana? Sun, sand, warmth, drinks with little umbrellas, arrived at by plane, naturally. I thought Hawaii was marvelous and considered, quite seriously, just not getting back on the plane, the one time we went. OK, some of that may have been because returning involved going back to work as a 2nd year medical resident, but hey, Hawaii has residency programs, yes?

Charles nixed that thought in a heartbeat.

His idea of a perfect vacation? Cool, some clouds would be fine, beer, not a speck of humidity. In short: Ireland or Iceland or maybe Finland? How is Finnish beer? That would factor in. Bavaria would probably work nicely. Or Belgium. To be fair, I too, would love to go to any of these places and hoist a beer, but would also place the Greek Isles high on that list (yes, Portugal, too, dahling). As he seriously would rather walk to his destiny than fly (not exaggerating here, nope), even these trips will be hard. Poor guy.

So there we are. At an impasse. But with central air. So all is well in our world.

Oh, I forgot. I have a correction to make. In the last post, I said Colin had caught a carp when, in fact, it was a catfish. My deepest apologies to the catfish for the slight. It won't happen again. Maybe.

Finally, I really need to keep a camera in the car, as we were forced to stop and honk at one of these blocking the 2 lane county road this morning on the way in to work. I am not shittin' you. She meandered off toward a clump of trees across the road from a secluded drive, where she presumably lives. I had caught a glimpse of her last fall but had convinced myself I hallucinated her. It is fun to prove yourself right to yourself. Charles maintained that he believed me all along. Good man.

Maybe she was looking for the llama.