outdoor thermometer against a brick wall

It’s 112 here today. Every summer since we’ve moved here, on the day the temperature soars above 110, I’ve professed, “I will spend next summer elsewhere.” This is our fourth summer. But I swear on all that is holy, I will spend next summer elsewhere.

I think we keep our air conditioning set at a reasonable temperature. Which is why it was confusing to go upstairs the other day and be reasonably convinced that it might start snowing momentarily.

I found the kids in the loft, under no fewer than four blankets each, comfortably enjoying their sixth daily showing of the “Robarazzi” episode on Nick’s new hit-it-out-of-the-ballpark show, Victorious.

“Why is it FREEZING up here?” I asked.

“Oh!” answered Jack, clearly proud of himself. “It was really hot up here before, so I just turned down the temperature thing.”

Indeed he had. To 65.

Knowing how to turn down the thermostat is an important skill to be sure. Being able to pay for it is another. When this month’s bill comes in, Jack and I will be sitting down for a lesson on the latter.

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