Easy Bake Oven

I don't care how many people say it: It isn't just the humidity. It's the actual heat.

...The mind-numbing, never-ceasing, ever-lovin' 98-degrees-at-10-pm HEAT in this sticky armpit we call East Texas.

(Possibly I'm a little grouchy right now. Don't say you weren't warned.)

I have been meaning to rant about the heat for several weeks now, but I've been so sweaty my fingers slide off the keyboard. This is only half a joke.

Really... truthfully: We've had trouble sleeping here. And we have an air conditioner. It runs for about $10 worth of cool per day (give or take some cents), and still we cannot rest in the pervasive, enveloping heat at 11:30 at night.

Also, I work in the house of heat. (Quick disclaimer wherein I say I KNOW other people have it much worse! I don't roof houses or pave highways for 8 hours a day... I know! I get that I've got it good. But the grouch must go on, my friends, so enough of that "perspective" and "maturity" stuff.) It is HOT in my office. Pretty much all of the time I am in my office. Which is pretty much all of the time.

Jeremy brought me a floor fan and a new vent cover, even some special low-wattage halogen light bulbs -- but neither one of us would say these efforts have fully solved the problem. He is with me on this: It is UNPLEASANT inside this tiny, not-very-ventilated space. Every occasion to rise brings with it the unmistakable sound of my sticky flesh unpeeling from my leather desk chair. I'm a Band-Aid off coming off its backing every time I must answer the fax. And even this is an improvement.

I started the summer wearing capri pants and sleeved shirts to work -- not aiming high, mind you, just attire I'm not ashamed of. Come to find out: It was simply not worth the suffering to look presentable for the 15 minutes a day I was out of the house. Now I barely rise above gym shorts & tanks. I find it's much easier to remove damp clothes that don't go past the knees or cover the elbows.

I've been thinking about the best metaphor for my working enviroment this summer, and I believe I've got it! I toil away in a grown-up version of the Easy Bake Oven.

Remember the Easy Bake? With only rudimentary technology (really, the whole thing was a light box MacGyver could have rigged in 45 seconds with an aluminum can, a broken lamp and some eletrician's tape), the Easy Bake delivered ACTUAL, COOKED snacks in a not-unheard-of amount of time. I remember being so suprised!, so impressed!, that a little plastic oven like that could create real food. I mixed and I baked and I mixed and I baked all my included treats on Day One. I just marveled at the innerworkings of the thing. Ah, the power of the lightbulb.

And this is where I've been thinking.... If a single 60-watt bulb can make brownies for two, then 3 halogens, one CPU and an ambient temp of 86 degrees totally explain why I'm a melted puddle by 2 p.m. I am literally BAKING myself every day!

I've tried turning the lights out, and that works for a while. You heard about the vent improvment and one of my two fans. I've experimented with and given up on iced drinks (condensation runs into all my papers). I still sometimes toy with the thermostat -- and you can do that ugly end-of-month math. Really, there is no alternative but to bake, bake, bake.

And, so, until fall, here I'll be. Drop me a line! Share the misery! I'll be busy avoiding my lamp, dressing light and hydrating (basting?) with regular water bottles. I figure that's the best I can do because, really, the what-to-wear-to-work situation can't get much more lax. With a desk window that looks onto the street, I'm pretty sure the entire neighborhood does not want to see me "officing" in swimwear. But, HEY! An idea! If only those halogens came in tanning lights....