To quote the ever-amazing "1776," "It's hot as hell in Philadelphia." On a side note, I will soon (yay!) live within a few blocks of Independence Hall--the site portrayed in that fabulous movie (which I totally watched this weekend). Envy me. I so want to stage a flash-musical rendition of "But Mr. Adams" one night while I'm there. Let me know if you want in.
Hot as it is, it is a wonderful feeling to walk into my air-conditioned office every morning. And it remains a great feeling--for about 10 minutes. Then, it's like sitting in a walk-in freezer. My first day in the office the maintenance staff was "fixing" my a/c. Allegedly, they were correcting a problem with the thermostat. If "correcting" means "setting the a/c to randomly start pumping out freezing air and 8:00 no matter where the thermostat is set," then I guess it's been corrected.
I'm aware that I am alaways cold, but when my office-mate has a parka on in August, I feel confident saying that it's not just me. Yesterday, I wore wool pants and a sweater over my top. I felt like an idiot. Then I looked at my fingernails and they were turning blue. I got up and went down the hall to Sue's office, obstensibly to talk about a project, but really because I got very tired and relaxed and I assumed it was because my heartrate was slowing and I was about to enter hibernation. I defrosted in Sue's office. She has the opposite problem--her a/c duct isn't connected to anything. She does have a funny little mobile unit, which I have lovingly nicknamed "R2."
Unable to procrastinate any longer, I returned to my office and checked the thermostat--it claimed to be 74. My teeth were chattering within 5 minutes. 74 my ass.
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