Remind me why I didn't move to Chicago . . .

For approximately eight hours today, the temperature was about 103 degrees. That's sans heat index. And when it gets that hot for that long, even those people lucky enough to have brand new A/C systems probably aren't able to get that cool. But they would come home to about 72 degrees and hear their A/C say something like "Hey guys! Look, I'm really sorry that I can't get it down to 70 degrees like you want. I'm really doing the best I can, so I hope you'll forgive me."

Unfortunately, Matt and I are not among those lucky people (not in the A/C sense, anyway.) So we come home to something like this: "Yeah, I know what you're thinkin' - it's not 70 degrees in here. Feels more like seventy-five, right? Well too bad. I've been working double shifts all week and if you think I'm gonna crank out a chilling breeze then you must be crazy. You'll get lukewarm and you'll like it. I can send you right back outside you know - it may be dark but it's still like 95 out there. You want a piece of me?"

So at this point Matt and Neville have fallen asleep on the floor, and I'm forced to try and keep cool vis-a-vis my Rachelsita:



Rachelsita the Sumo Wrestler fan was named after Amyesita the Sumo Wrestler Fan. He's plastic and takes four double-A batteries, but it's totally worth it.