So recently, around these here parts, its been getting a little toasty... and humid. I love the toasty, not so much with the humid. Not only does it do terrible things to my normally straight and glossy locks (i.e. makes them into a ginormous, poofy mess of snarls that refused to be soothed by any sort of product, expensive or inexpensive), it makes me hot and sweaty. Which I don't like to be unless I'm purposefully making myself hot and sweaty (i.e. burning off all those margaritas--which I just learned can contain over 300 calories a piece (times six, carry the one...) and grill goodies). So I bought a (second) air conditioner, as the first one went into my sister's south facing (and thus all day sunny) sauna of a room about a month ago.

Now, we like to think of ourselves as responsible air conditioner users. We don't turn them on when we're not at home (the cats can suffer) and we only turn them on when the heat (and humidity!) is unbearable. And trust me, when you live on the top, south facing, corner apartment of a five story building, the accumulated heat of the four floors above you plus the baking power of the sun's rays can make it pretty darn hot.

Here's the problem with the air conditioner.

When I was in college, I was in a sorority (judge if you must and whatever, you wish you were as cool as us) and there was apparently some mythical rule that we all had to sleep in one spot. All of us. In. One. Spot. So what would have been traditionally attic space became a large-sized Little Orphan Annie-esque dormitory. Picture if you will, 20-some identical beds lined up in three rows. To go along with this law or rule or whatever it was--we never "really" successfully found out if it was an anti-brothel law or some antiquated tradition left over from when a women's virginity actually counted for something--we were required to keep all of the bedroom windows wide open. Something about a confined area, too many people and disease. Now, keep in mind, I attend college practically in Canada (seriously, St. Lawrence University... look it up). So it gets pretty damn cold at night.

This was some of the best sleep EVER. Seriously. The women were not allowed to wear any sort of swishy gym pants, as there were no alarm clocks someone gently woke you up (reminiscent of when I was just a wee lass and my mom or dad would get me up for school), and lots of blankets which I love snuggling under (I can't even sleep in this hot, humid weather unless I've got at least a sheet pulled over me), and fresh air blowing across your body. Maybe you had to experience it love it.

ANYWAYS... the point is, now I can't sleep with shut windows. Even in the winter... and trust me, it gets pretty cold here in craptacular Boston. So now that I've got this air conditioner in the window, I've been having some problems sleeping. Yes, I still have air blowing across me, and the hum of the air conditioner as it kicks on and off through its energy saving cycle is delightful but it just... lacks something.

*Sigh* I want my fresh(ish) air back.

Side bar: last night I woke up to this weird scrabbling noise under my bed. It would start for awhile, then stop, then start up again. I used to have these nightmare when I was a kid that there was something under the bed that was coming to get me. My daddy told me (and maybe there is where the thing about always sleeping under a blanket comes from) that if I fell asleep under the blankets, the monsters couldn't get me. So after much debating, and blanket burrowing, I grew a pair, found my bedside flashlight (good for late night reading when one is too lazy to get up and turn on the bedside lamp that is stupidly placed at the foot of the bed) took a deep breath and peered under the edge of the bed.

And promptly scared the ever loving sh*t out of Pretty Kitty, who bounced off the walls of my room emitting little sounds of panic until I got up, opened the door and let her out.