You, the reader, could call it sheer stupidity. Zach and I would probably shift our heels uncomfortably and mumble something about "poor timing." Either way, though Seattle (and, for that matter, North America) is in the midst of a nasty heatwave (and our apartment lacks air conditioning), we both insisted on using the oven today. Zach just "had" to make a particular dish for dinner, and I just "had" to make my Arkansas chocolate-chip cookies. We're done now: the cookies are cooling down (though probably not by much in this furnace), and Zach is stirring uncomfortably in bed. Our apartment, though, has taken on the characteristics of a small furnace, promoting near-insomnia on Zach's part, and complete insominia for me.
Our oven adventures, aside from providing us with a wealth-of-cookies-that-we-shouldn't-eat-since-we're-both-gaining-weight, has also brought to head a behavior in us that has been slowly developing since the heat arrived several days ago and blanketed the city. At first, the heat didn't bother us that much. We both spent our days in air-conditioned comforts at our respective jobs... coming home in the evening to warmer-than-usual quarters was managable. The heat was still tolerable, and we went about our business, albeit with a small fan helping us stay comfortable at night.
The cat was the first one to withdraw. She began to loathe being held even more than usual, and now spends most of her time sleeping on the coldest portions of our cheap hardwood floor. Though, just to show us that she still cares, she's been bringing mice home to play with and present to us. Her latest meow says it all: "It's not you, pal. It's the heat." (What she really means: "Buy some f***ing air conditioning, you pathetic hippies.")
Today, however, was the tipping point for Zach and I. The hottest day yet, and no offices or labs with air conditioning. For some reason, we, without discussion, somehow decided as a couple to tough it out and stay home today. I can't fathom why at this point (just as I can't fathom why we both insisted on baking). Perhaps our nesting instincts were activated by the heat: we spent much of the day either cleaning or napping. But, in either case, we did much of it alone. Without words, without any decision made or dicussed, we separated ourselves - partitioned the apartment into temporary zones for each of us. The cat was involved as well. When Zach would enter the kitchen, I'd move to the bedroom to lie down, forcing the cat to relocate to the cold tile floors of the bathroom. My sudden need to use said bathroom would send the cat, grumpy and sullen, outdoors to the shaded patio.
We continued this precarious division of space well into the evening, when the heat from the oven sent Zach to bed early, with the cat and I left in the living room and kitchen - her spread out on the hardwood floors, and me baking in my underpants.
She makes it look so comfortable, that I'm tempted to try it myself.
Posted by James at July 22, 2006 11:48 PM