Open (Window) Season

Air, Without the Conditioning

I’m not a fan of air conditioning. I’m not even a fan of fans. When the days and nights turn sultry, just give me an open window to welcome the possibility of an overnight cool-down and the gentle morning breeze wafting over me upon waking.

Now that we’ve moved into a house with central air, I know Sam hoped I’d avail myself of this cooling upgrade, but the fact is, unless it is truly sweltering outside, meaning the kind of heat that actually makes one feel nauseous, I dislike it. There is something about air conditioning that feels lifeless to me, inert, chilling, the polar opposite of restorative. I know my unfavorable air-conditioning opinion comes as a huge disappointment to Sam, so I suffer through evenings clutching my favorite winter sweater around my shoulders as we watch TV in the living room. “Don’t you think you’re being dramatic?” he asks. “I’ve set the thermostat to 78.” But hey, there’s a chill in the air! I’m not imagining it, and I can’t wait for whatever show we’re watching to end so I can retire to the muggy mecca of our separately-zoned bedroom, which is the exact temperature and water content of the air outside, thanks to the open window. Here, I can breathe, and in every moment, even the ones in which I’m ripping the covers off and wake in the morning covered by a thin layer of sweat, I feel nothing short of ecstatic. The birds are singing outside and tropical air wafts in. Why would I ever want to put a barrier between me and, this, my favorite season? These days, my last waking thought and my first conscious thought in the morning are exactly the same: how blissfully happy I am, that I get to feel summer.