Paul was out of town for work all week, leaving me alone with baby. He worried if I'd be able to manage on my own, I worried if four days would be enough alone time for me!
It was so pleasant to get ready in the morning without tripping over each other. The nights, however, were another story. A heat wave is not kind to 90 year old bungalows without air conditioning. We had installed one tiny window unit it in the hallway, in the only window large enough for an air conditioner, as far away from the only usable bedroom as possible. But it's two BTU's struggled to keep the attic rooms below 85 degrees.
Viv didn't complain, but she was a sweaty miserable little thing. The worst was the heat rash from the car seat straps. Because, like everything in our lives right now, the car too is in need of repair. The A/C is out in the only car that the car seat fits in. We raced to daycare each morning as early as possible, and after work I took whatever circuitous route home that would keep the car in motion, hoping the bit of wind might keep us both from frying. The only hotter and more uncomfortable I've ever been was during the deadly heat wave in the south of France in 2003.
The day Paul returned, he suffered through only one sweaty night before figuring out how to rip out a window sash to move the air conditioner in the bedroom. That same day, the weather broke with a cool breeze temps in the low seventies. Of course it did.
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