That was like a last gasp of summer, and I do mean gasp. Who expects temperatures above 90 in the middle of November? With any luck, some premature Christmas decorations melted.
Personally, I loved it. Some warm-blooded folks wear shorts or T-shirts almost year-round, but that’s not me. If it’s below 75, I’m in long sleeves. Under 70 and I’m in a jacket.
Anyone who thinks Southern California doesn’t have seasons hasn’t seen me in December and January: two layers, plus a coat, scarf, gloves, beanie.
So the flood of warmth was entirely welcome from my end, especially since it’s unlikely to be repeated for months.
I’d rather be hot than cold, and I’ve had plenty of experience with both in the back house I rent. It’s barely insulated, with a wall heater and no air conditioning. The plus is journalist-friendly rent (and friendly landlords).
For most of the year my lack of air conditioning is not an issue. But from mid-July to mid-September, it’s brutal.
When it’s 100 degrees or more outside, I would come home from work and find my house as hot as 95. I’d sleep on top of the covers. Even with windows open all night, the house might only cool down to 75. By 8 a.m., the temperature was already rising.
Basically, for a few weeks each summer my house could double as a sauna. I’m surprised local tribes hadn’t inquired about subleasing it as a sweat lodge.
Most of my adult life I haven’t had air conditioning. It saves money and helps the environment. Cheaper to leave the house and let some business provide the a/c, or to visit the library’s cooling center.
Somewhat offsetting the savings, some years I would splurge one or two nights at a budget motel for the relief, plus a change of scene: Santa Ana in 2018, Santa Monica in 2020.
I didn’t do that this year. Why?
Because I got air conditioning.
It came about like this. The last couple of summers I was getting a little worn down by the heat, and another summer was an unpleasant prospect. In July, a friend offered to hook me up with her air conditioning installer.
As expected, the installer handles only central a/c, which of course wasn’t of use since I only rent, but she directed me to a private electrician named Vern.
Vern happened to be at Home Depot when we spoke. Based on my description, he estimated that two portable units would do the job and offered to buy and install them for $1,000 that very afternoon.
As it was a hot day, and I had stimulus money unspent, I made a snap decision and said yes. To think that within hours I would go from a guy without air conditioning to a guy with air conditioning was exciting and disorienting.
Events were moving so fast! Unlike the trapped air in my house.
Vern arrived in mid-afternoon, sun beating down, temps in the high 90s. He was barely across my threshold when he exclaimed, “It’s like an oven in here.” And this was the judgment of an air conditioning professional.
“You’ve been here a couple of years?” he asked. No, 22 years, I told him. He marveled at my fortitude.
My guess is that after years of attending city council meetings, I’m acclimated to hot air.
Vern and I walked through my house. The most obvious place for one unit was a square window in my living room, which is at one end of my oblong house. It’s an old window and hadn’t opened in years, but Vern managed to pry it open, then get a floor unit, smaller than a laundry hamper, in place under it with a hose venting out the window.
He turned the unit on full blast and opened up the instruction booklet to show me what I needed to know. A bead of sweat dropped from his nose onto the open page.
My house had only one other normal window that could vent the second a/c unit. It was the laundry room opposite my bedroom. Vern installed the second unit there. The hose has to be elbowed aside for me to open the washing machine lid. Nothing’s perfect.
Vern turned this unit on full too. He said the two units would help but could do only so much in the face of this kind of heat.
“You should have four of them,” he said, shaking his head. At least there was now air conditioning at both ends of my house.
Vern said he’d heard from the air conditioning installer, a reader of mine, that he ought to get my autograph. I gave him one on my personal check.
“How do you write when it’s that hot in here?” he asked.
It’s handy when I have some hot news.
As someone who’s not used to having air conditioning, I’ve used the units sparingly. My first post-a/c electric bill was under $35, up from $17. September’s bill was $25.
Typically I would run the units after getting home, then leave windows open at night. Was having air conditioning worth $1,000? Not yet, but after another bad summer or two, maybe.
At any rate, air conditioning took the edge off. I slept better. And not to wake up already sweating was a benefit.
This last hot spell? It was nothing. I hadn’t run the a/c in two months and didn’t need it this time either. Sure, it was hot in early afternoon, but with the sun setting before 5 p.m. and with lows in the 50s, my house stayed comfortable without a/c.
Sunday the high was 92, but my house never got above 78. And I was out all afternoon.
I was at a backyard event in shorts, where another summertime scourge got me. Mosquitoes.
brIEfly
The nonprofit provider CLASP, for Claremont After-School Programs, provides homework help, recreation and healthy snacks to elementary students at risk academically. Its outgoing director was feted Sunday afternoon. Jan Creasey joked knowingly about why, besides its support for CLASP, Claremont is unique: “We have our own Birkenstock store. Rhino Records still sells vinyl records. We have the Claremont Courier. And no overnight parking.”
David Allen moves along Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Email dallen@scng.com, phone 909-483-9339, like davidallencolumnist on Facebook and follow @davidallen909 on Twitter.
