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We had a heat wave this week, and the West Coast does not know how to deal with it (but remember, kids, there’s no such thing as climate change!). Even most restaurants are not air conditioned, and our apartment certainly isn’t. The 35 degree weather was humid and stifling, and everyone has been cranky because of it. In our household, it led to exchanges like this:
Me: I’m going to take a cold bath.
Perfect Husband: Fine! You do that!
Me: Although I strongly recommend that you give yourself at least a quick cold shower.
Perfect Husband: MAYBE I WILL.
Me: GOOD!
Perfect Husband: Are you coming with me?
Me: No. I don’t like cold showers. They’re too cold.
Perfect Husband: I don’t understand.
Me: You don’t have to!
*later*
Perfect Husband: I had goosebumps getting out of the shower, but NOW I’M HOT AGAIN.
Me: Go. Lie. In Front of. The Fan.
Perfect Husband: FINE! I’m not going to dry off at all. I’m going to lie soaking wet on the bed. HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THAT?
Me: Just don’t soak my feather pillows.
Perfect Husband: FINE! Maybe I’ll just be hot! I’m drying myself off, OKAY?
Me: You don’t have to DRY yourself. Just blot to get the worst of the wet off!
Perfect Husband: FINE!
*He makes a big production of dabbing his face daintily with his towel while standing naked in front of the fan, rivulets of water running down his body onto the floor. I start to laugh and leave the room.*
Perfect Husband: …you don’t love me anymore, do you?
