Dear who ever invented air-conditioning,
I apologize, firstly, for not taking the time to Google to find out who you are. Please don’t let my lack of effort in this area make you think this letter isn’t utterly sincere.
I want you to know that I love you. For realsies. And, though I would never, ever leave my husband, I would probably be willing to kiss you right on the mouth to thank you for your wonderful invention.
You see, it is gross in Iowa right now. I went for a walk last night and at 8:00pm it was still 89 degrees with over 70% humidity. Between the humidity and the bug spray I had to apply liberally to thwart those damn mosquitos, I was sticky and sweating the second I walked out the door. An hour later my t-shirt was wet and heavy and even though I couldn’t muster the energy to run, I was spent.
And then, oh glorious moment, I went inside and there was an air conditioner, busily pumping out delicious cold air. I stood over it, let the air cool my face. I held my shirt up, letting the air blow up my t-shirt. It felt almost sinfully good.
Thank you for helping a life long desert dweller survive summer in the midwest.
If you by any chance happen to be friends with the person who invented the idea of popsicles, please also give them my thanks. You two are quite the team.