We have made for ourselves a challenge: the air conditioner shall be off. And when I say, "we" I mean, "those who pay the electric bill." We are not heartless, we will turn it on eventually. But we have a pond in our back yard in which sweaty kids can easily cool off. And we have a lot of windows.
We like to be responsible financially, but we are also lazy. Some of our windows are high up in a loft and shutting them requires the use of a ladder. Too. Much. Work. Sweating is just easier.
But, Iowa called our bluff. After sweating through the worst of the afternoon, mother nature rolled in a giant storm. There is no storm like the thunderstorms Iowa can produce after a muggy day. It cooled down 15 degrees in less than 5 minutes, and the air smelled like life and health.
But the windows.
Each person was assigned a set of windows to rush and close. I'm not sure why, but we chose Drake to shut the hard ones in the upper echelons of the loft. The poor kid had been sick and spent the day knocked out from NyQuill, but we had no mercy on him. To the loft he obediently ran.
But then he handled that task like a ninja: scaling the wall like a spider, holding himself in the window well by use of muscle alone, and floating down to earth unharmed.
I wonder how he would do it if he wasn't sick and drugged up on NyQuill.
We like to be responsible financially, but we are also lazy. Some of our windows are high up in a loft and shutting them requires the use of a ladder. Too. Much. Work. Sweating is just easier.
But, Iowa called our bluff. After sweating through the worst of the afternoon, mother nature rolled in a giant storm. There is no storm like the thunderstorms Iowa can produce after a muggy day. It cooled down 15 degrees in less than 5 minutes, and the air smelled like life and health.
But the windows.
Each person was assigned a set of windows to rush and close. I'm not sure why, but we chose Drake to shut the hard ones in the upper echelons of the loft. The poor kid had been sick and spent the day knocked out from NyQuill, but we had no mercy on him. To the loft he obediently ran.
But then he handled that task like a ninja: scaling the wall like a spider, holding himself in the window well by use of muscle alone, and floating down to earth unharmed.
I wonder how he would do it if he wasn't sick and drugged up on NyQuill.
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