I opened the door that connects the house to the garage and stepped into the laundry room. Kicking off my shoes and toeing them into the garage, I started my ‘arrive at home’ routine. I stripped to my undies and threw my ‘outside’ clothes and my face mask (thank you, Catnip Manor!) into the washing machine. Next I made my way into the bathroom and thoroughly washed my hands and arms. Then I dressed in my ‘inside clothes;’ a t-shirt and yoga pants, before finally making my way into the main part of the house. Is all this necessary? I’m not sure anymore. It seems like the main way you contract the virus is by inhaling it. But I’d rather be safe than sorry.
And, okay, look. Sometimes I don’t bother putting on pants. It’s summer. And I can’t go anywhere. So why do I need pants?
Anyway.
I passed the thermostat and paused to turn on the air. It was pretty warm in the house, but not that bad. I leave a fan on during the day to try and keep the house from becoming too warm for Freddie.
Speaking of the furry guy, I spotted him. He hadn’t met me at the door or sat outside the bathroom to watch my cleansing routine as he normally did. Because he was sprawled on the floor, stretched out as far as possible, looking so, so uncomfortable.
You know how this works, but as always, a gentle reminder:
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I walked over and looked down at him. He looked up at me. “Hot,” he said.
“It’s not that bad in here.”
He laid his head back down, closing his eyes in high drama. “So hot,” he said.
“I turned on the AC,” I said, just as it clicked on. Cool air started blowing from the vents. I raised my hands, palms up and looked down at him.
He stood and stretched, then made his way into the family room. I followed him and sat down on the couch at the same time he jumped up. We sat in silence for a minute, waiting for the house to cool off a bit. “It’s hot,” I said.
“That’s what I said!”
I reached over to pet him and he shook me off. “No touch! Too hot!”
I sighed and dropped my hand. “Is this why you don’t sleep with me anymore?”
“Too hot,” he agreed.
“I have a fan,” I said.
He shook his head. “It’s cooler here,” he said.
"I like it better when it’s cold,” I mused.
“I don’t like cold, either,” he said.
I rolled my head on the back of the couch to look at him. “Would you rather be hot or cold?” I asked.
“Neither,” he said, looking at me like I was a weirdo.
"I’d rather be cold,” I told him, ignoring his frown.”
“Why? I’d rather be neither.”
“No, but if you had to be one,” I explained.
“Why would I have to be one? I want to be comfortable. It’s better to be comfortable.”
I reached over to pet him. He ducked my hand and nipped my arm. “Hey!” I said.
“It’s too hot! Don’t touch me!”
“Oh yeah,” I muttered, dropping my hand again. “So, not too hot and not too cold,” I continued. “Just perpetually seventy degrees.”
“I don’t know what ‘seventy degrees’ means, I just like it to be right.”
I chuckled. “Me too,” I agreed. “It’s not right at the moment.”
He huffed out a frustrated breath. “You need to fix it,” he demanded.
I pointed at the vent. “I did!”
"Not fast enough!”
“It’s summertime,” I explained. “It’s going to be hot.”
“I don't like it,” he pouted.
I thought for a second. “Yeah, I don’t really either. I did as a kid because it meant school was out and I could play all day. Now I still have to work and the house is hot when I walk in.”
“It’s hot all day!” he whined.
I reached over to pet him, but stopped myself when he glared.
"I left plenty of water for you. Did you drink it?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“And I left the fan on,” I said, waving my arm in the general direction of the machine in question.
“That was nice,” he said.
“Summer is almost over,” I soothed. “Soon it will be Fall and then we’ll get a pumpkin! Won’t that be grand?”
“I suppose,” he muttered.
“Just think cold thoughts,” I continued.
“Not too cold!” he insisted, loudly.
I lifted my hand to rub his head. He smacked it away with his paw. “Stop that!” he yelled.
“Oh, crap, sorry! I forgot.”
“It’s too hot for that!”
“I just forgot!”
He was breathing a little hard. “Calm down,” I said. “You’re going to overheat.”
He glared at me.
“The air is on,” I reminded him. “It’s already cooler in here.”
He paused his tantrum and looked around. “It is cooler,” he admitted.
“Yep!” I said, cheerfully.
“You did fix it,” he admitted.
“So I can pet you now?”
“No.”
Happy Caturday, Peeps! I hope you are staying as cool and as safe as possible. I am lucky to have an air conditioner, although it’s old and we can’t afford to keep it going all the time. But it does make things easier.
