On Why I Don't Have Air Conditioning

It stormed today, and it was one of those storms that felt like it had been building for days.

For days now it has been insufferably hot, so hot I have found it hard to breathe. I have had to keep my computers off; I've been afraid they would just melt otherwise. It's been so hot everyone thinks I'm crazy for not having air conditioning.

But today the rain came, and it was wonderful. I found myself in the suburbs (I was at the computer store, and buying new glasses to replace the ones I've been losing) when the clouds encroached, then surrounded. Thunder permeated the sky, burst forward from different points, from all directions, for what seemed to be miles, over the horizon, echoing off into different states. It was a ominous yet comforting reminder that the world is bigger than this suburb, than this city. Then the downpour. I kept thinking we need this, but was not really thinking so much in the meteorological or agricultural sense. More metaphorical. The release, the cleasing, the ensuing calm is something I've always found could be applied to the larger picture of my life.

So I write this now, it's seven hours later, I've just gotten off the phone, and there's this indescribably wonderful cross-breeze in the room here, and it's finally drying off the perspiration. I feel as though I've made it somehow. Through what, I'm not sure. But I am happy to be here. And I think if I could tell you why, it probably wouldn't make anything any clearer.

This feeling is so much better than air conditioning. And a lot less noisy.