In the Heat of the Moment
I grew up without air conditioning. In the public schools I attended, we cooled off by opening windows. Even on the third floor. I don’t remember any worries about people throwing things out the windows—or jumping—but I wasn’t the teacher.
I didn’t learn about A/C’s existence until much later in life. And when I started college in hot steamy New Orleans, I discovered that A/C was sometimes necessary. Especially in the modern campus buildings where the windows couldn’t be opened at all—by design. Maybe by then administrators had a bona fide fear of students jumping to their demise.
I don’t have A/C in my home. And, yes, it’s hot. Around 7:30 p.m. I am grateful that I have survived another day and can re-open curtains and windows, letting a scant breeze flow across the house—accented by ceiling fans, which have done their meager best to keep me from sweltering all day.
The afternoon hours can be tiring. I sometimes drink oolong tea to combat the heat-induced mental fog. If I get desperate, I can hang out in my basement—which is significantly cooler than the main floor—or drive to a building that has A/C. But car exhaust, of course, exacerbates the problem of global warming—creating the need for yet more air conditioning.
It’s a conundrum.
I don’t turn on the oven in the summer. I use the microwave, stovetop, or eat it cold. Seems a small price to pay for what the planet provides. But people likely label me a nut. Or point to my hypocritical use of a clothes dryer. I don’t like the way clotheslines make my clothing crunchy. Then I need to iron. The iron uses electricity. I don’t know which is worse for the planet—irons or dryers. I should just learn to wear crunchy, wrinkled clothes.
I use a front-loading washer—which theoretically saves water—and its matching dryer that pretends to save electricity by offering settings ranging from “damp” to “normal” to “very.” The default setting is “normal” which leaves the entire load damp at the end of the drying cycle. I have no idea what the “damp” setting does, if anything. I use the “very” setting, and deal with the guilt.
My son-in-law recently installed a clothesline in the backyard where he and my daughter live. Good man. Every little energy saver helps. I think.
Maybe it doesn’t actually do anything at all—unless everybody gets on the same bandwagon and creates a really big response to the climate dilemma. What if we all—all the human beings on the planet—gave up our clothes dryers? Or our Irons? Or A/C? Could we make a difference?
We all make choices about what we can or can’t live without, and generally justify each choice with a rationale we personally find sensible. Nobody wants to be told what to do. And nobody wants to hear about how things worked just fine in the good old days, before climate change was even on the horizon.
I do remember my mom hanging clothes on the line in the good old days. But then, I’m old enough to remember her using a wringer washer. And by the time I was twelve, I was ironing my own clothes.
Old habits die hard.
Everything has changed since then. And things will continue to change until the planet finally pulls the rug out from under us. Unless—in the heat of the moment, we collectively challenge our rationales and murder some old habits.
Or you can lower the temperature on your thermostat, and I will put another load in my dryer.