Yes, I know that when they hear me complain that Seattle high temperatures have broken into the 90s for the fourth straight day, the reaction from the rest of world may well be bitter laughter. In a different article, from a week ago, the Times wrote that during this past spring, the temperature in northern India routinely exceeded 110 degrees. The heat was so persistent that people were unable to work.
Much of the world consists of economies that barely provide basic necessities to their people. Those economies are failing. Because of excessive heat. Because critical portions of the population insisted that global warming was a hoax.
But the rest of the world exists only in my mind. My reality is what I see before me, day after day. And 90 degrees means something different to me -- who grew up in a world where 80 degrees in summer was considered hot -- than it would to a resident of Delhi, or Cairo. Or San Antonio.
At this moment, 6 p.m., it is still 90 degrees outside. Inside my house, it is now 80 degrees, a temperature that has been very slowly rising throughout the day. And "inside my house" means on the main floor. Upstairs, where I sleep, it must be well over 100 degrees -- as you ascend the stairs, the change in temperature is sudden and overwhelming.
So I spend most of my day indoors. My two outdoor-oriented cats have also spent most of the day indoors, sprawled out on a window ledge. I will again go to bed at 11 p.m. or midnight, rather than my normal 10 p.m., as I wait for the upstairs to cool down. Because one advantage Seattle possesses over some hot cities is that -- usually -- the temperature does cool down during the night. Down to 64 or 66 degrees this past week.
This morning, I arose at 6 a.m., despite being retired and having no job to hustle off to. I opened front and back doors, hoping that a little fresh 66 degree air would cool the downstairs to below 70 degrees, in preparation for another day beneath the blazing sun. It didn't, really, never dropping below 72. I ate an early breakfast, glanced at the morning papers, and then left at 7 a.m. for a morning walk.
That walk was refreshing, and was definitely the highlight of the day. I followed one of my several walking routes -- through the Arboretum and down into Madison Park. I sat outside in the cool morning air at Starbucks, arming myself with a blueberry muffin and a latte, and then continued walking into Madrona, and wound my way back home.
It's sad, but that was the highlight of my day. I arrived home at 9:30 a.m., with the temperature already pushing past 75 degrees. I spent a short time on my back deck, being entertained by my cats and plucking a few dandelions out of the yard. Then, the temperature up to 80, the doors went shut, a fan in my living room was turned on, and I once more was barricaded against the outside heat.
A novel addition to my daily ritual: from 2 p.m. to about 3:30 p.m. I slept. Siesta time, making up for those lost hours at night. As well as the boredom of incarceration in an over-heated house. Who would have ever predicted that the Siesta would come to Seattle?
You may properly conclude that I don't have air conditioning. Correct. I'm a native resident of the Northwest Corner. We don't do air conditioning, because we don't need air conditioning.
So I keep telling myself, with less and less conviction, as I listen to the hum of the AC next door. Power-driven machinery, keeping a group of kids cool, kids renting the small, neighboring house. Bah! A waste of power and one more source of environmental degradation.
My cats look at each other, and roll their eyes.
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