It’s easy to think about moving when the weather has been so terribly hot (118 on the thermometer in the sun on Thursday). A neighbor gave us an air conditioner. I know now what I used to hate about institutions: that cold, dead-ish feeling of heavy, solid, “conditioned” air. I woke up in a panic this morning, in our airconditioned bedroom, wondering where I was. I hustled myself downstairs where I normally share summer quarters with a dormouse (he was particularly active last night), and breathed a sign of natural-air relief. I realize that air conditioning is cool and constant, and therefore desirable. In a sealed building, like our old interior design office, it is imperative. But for the first time I see why Europeans really dislike it. My father, who lived until 90, felt the same; I regret pressuring him to use it.
