There are certain things every Southerner understands without explanation. We know the proper way to prepare sweet tea. We know you don’t plant anything outside until after Easter because winter likes to sneak back in one more time. And we know that when the temperature climbs into the 90s and the humidity reaches the point where the air feels like a warm bowl of soup, there is one invention standing between civilization and complete misery.
The air conditioner.
I have often thought the person who invented air conditioning deserves a place among the greatest heroes in American history. Somewhere between the people who invented electricity and whoever decided bacon should come with breakfast. Without air conditioning, the South would simply be a place where people moved from one patch of shade to another while muttering about the weather.
Recently, parts of Europe experienced record-breaking heat waves. Paris saw some of the highest temperatures ever recorded in the country, and people became seriously ill. Some even died. One reason is that air conditioning is not nearly as common there as it is here.
Paris may be the City of Light. The City of Love. The most romantic city in the world.
But as long as it remains the City Without Air Conditioning, I’m going to admire it from a comfortable distance.
I have no desire to spend my vacation sitting in a hotel room, sweating through my shirt and pretending an open window is a substitute for a machine that blows cold air directly into your soul.
Here in Georgia, we know how to deal with summer.
We retreat indoors.
When the heat index climbs above 100 degrees, the outdoors becomes a place you visit only when absolutely necessary. The sun is no longer something that gives life. It becomes a giant ball of fire that seems personally offended you decided to leave the house.
Last month, when the heat index reached dangerous levels, I did what any sensible person would do. I went home, walked into my nice, cool house and enjoyed the miracle of modern science. The problem is that miracles apparently require payment.
Keeping a house cool during a heat wave can be expensive. One expert on the Today show recently suggested setting your thermostat to 78 degrees could save about 2 percent on your electric bill.
Two percent.
I appreciate the advice. I really do. But there comes a point when financial responsibility has to fight a fair battle with basic comfort.
If I’m sitting on my couch watching television, I don’t want to feel like I’m camping. I don’t want to sweat while eating a sandwich.
So congratulations to the experts. They can have their 2 percent.
I’ll keep my thermostat set at a temperature where I can actually enjoy being inside the house.
Yes, I understand what this means. My electric bill may arrive with so many digits it looks less like a utility statement and more like the national debt. That’s a price I’m willing to pay.
Besides, if I keep my account current, maybe Georgia Power will recognize my dedication and eventually put up a statue of me outside its headquarters in Atlanta. I don’t need it to be large. Just something tasteful. Maybe life-size. Preferably somewhere in the shade.
Of course, the battle over temperature doesn’t end when I leave home. My office is its own climate experiment. The air conditioning there seems to have only one setting: Arctic winter. There is no thermostat that I can find. No button marked “comfortable.” The system simply runs until everybody is wearing sweaters in July and icicles are forming on their ears.
But honestly, I’ll take too cold over too hot any day. Because in the South, we understand something important.
Winter is temporary. Humidity is personal.
My View From the cheap seats 