It’s that time of year again. In the summer, you expect it to be hot, but at night time, I can’t stand it. I could never live in the tropics, and could care less about any vacation to anywhere hot and muggy…especially at night.
Last year at this time, Tonya just scoffed at my pleas to get a fan. I think she was just trying to ‘get her Mexican on’, and act like she could roll with anything thrown her way. Most homes here have no air conditioning or heating…which is fine for most of the year. However, for a few months, you definitely need something to push the air around and cool you down. Thankfully though, Tonya finally broke down and happily agreed that especially at night, a fan would be a great idea.
When the sun drops, it does cool down a bit, but not enough. In our attempts to stay cool and comfortable I try and assist the cooling process in any way possible. The first thing I do when the sun has disappeared behind the mountains is to open the windows. Last year there was debate over the need for a fan. This year the debate is to whether or not to open the windows. Tonya does not want bugs to fly in. I do not want to sweat and be restless. I often debate this point with Tonya, and tell her to not leave the lights on near the windows. As soon as I leave the room, she closes the windows. It usually takes me a while and then it dawns on me that everything is still and warm. “Did you close the windows?” is the standard question I pose. Her standard response is “I don’t want bugs to fly in”
This has brought another odd characteristic of Mexico to my attention. Not only do the homes not have heating and cooling, they also do not believe in screens here. Why is that? How can a country not understand the value of screens? Thankfully there are no mosquitoes here in Mexico City, but there are plenty of moths, June bugs and other assorted flying insects that love to come crash your party on any given night. This time of the year means I have to try to relax while trying to constantly battle Tonya to keep the windows open and air circulating while hoping we don’t get to many bugs joining us for our nightly film viewing.
Bedtime is the real challenge. I don’t even know why during summer one should even bother making the bed. The first thing that happens when you crawl in is the covers and sheets get thrown off immediately. My neurosis gets the best of me though, because I think there is something odd about sleeping on a mattress with no covers. Because of this, I usually have a section of sheet on me somewhere, but not too much.
I think of my childhood and sleeping with my grandmother at her home in the country. She had to have been a woman of great patience to deal with restless kids at night. We would lie in her bed next to the window. The window would be open and you could hear cars drive by at night on the gravel road. You could hear crickets. You could hear the still heat of a Texas night. “Just lie really still” she would say. She would insist this was the best and quickest way to cool off and stay cool. I think she also said this to make us be still so she could drift off to sleep. Who wants to lie in bed with some twisting turning whining kid constantly rattling on about being hot?
Nothing has changed. I am a grown man and every night of summer I get in to bed, I throw the covers off and make a comment about being hot. “This sucks” is a pretty common utterance from me, or a moan of disgust. I usually stare up at the ceiling, looking at nothing. I suppose it is just ritual. I do though, think of what my grandmother told me as a kid, and I lay very, very still. I lie there and the sound of the fan is my lullaby. I am usually fine as long as nothing touches me. I stick to ‘my’ side of the bed with a vengeance. I am beginning to believe it is now custom molded to my nightly stiff pose to beat the heat. When sleep comes, it is truly appreciated. No one move, be perfectly still and I may get a half-decent night sleep and remain at least, tolerably cool.
If I am woken up at night, it is not usually because of the heat, but more likely due to the dogs. Winston usually sleeps in the bed, but now it is even too hot for him. He may jump up at some point during the night to get cozy, and then is usually upset because I kick him off because I can’t stand him sleeping against me. Sometimes he gets too hot and jumps off on his own accord. Sometimes it is the clattering sound of Sunny, having gotten stuck in or under the desk and is thrashing around trying to get loose (he is a wild sleeper). However, it is usually the quieter things that are the worst; dog farts
You do not have to be scientist to understand the physics of how smells seem to hang for an eternity in warm air. Factor in the aspect of a very big dog on both sides of the bed and it spells trouble. Many a night I manage to finally drift off in a very fragile sleep, only to wake up gasping for breath from the slow creeping noxious gas rising from whichever dog is sleeping beside the bed. It is a strange phenomenon, but it does seem that dog farts linger a lot longer in the still warm air between the hours of 3 and 5 in the morning. Worse still is the fact that once the dog is relaxed and letting loose, the constant stream of ‘gas’ can keep you up for quite a while. Many mornings I wake with an overwhelming concern that I too, smell like the dog farts that were constantly bombarding me in the sticky night air. They may have no problem sleeping in warm summer nights, but I sure do. I now have to be prepared at a split second’s notice to pull sheets up over my nose or bury my face between pillows to avoid the nocturnal stink bombs the dogs let so freely loose while sleeping.
They are in the clear every time. Just like in a fire, you are constantly told to stay low to the ground…that is where the clear air is. Heat rises, as do farts. They lay blissfully unaware of the hell they are sending out and up over the bed. The night is cool and relaxing for them, spreading out and rolling all over the cool floor.
In truth, they win every time. What good does it do to cover your head with pillows or seek refuge beneath a hot comforter? Even if I choose to do these things, it is only a brief respite, as the heat always wins. I am soon forced back out into the heavy night air to face the volley of farts let loose by the sprawling dreaming dogs.
I suppose there is a silver lining to these restless, warm nights. Sometimes the dogs let a good one rip, and it wakes me from my fragile sleep. I have gotten many a giggles from the late night surprises. On occasion too, they do such a winner that it wakes Tonya, and the sweaty bed shakes with a hearty late-night laugh from the both of us.
The rainy season is only a few weeks away, and I cannot wait.
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