Hot Tub Solution

"Hear me out," she said. "This could work," she said.

Everything in my being was telling me not to trust my girlfriend, Cindy. We were brainstorming ways to beat the heat.

Cindy started out by reporting, "My car said that it's 114 out there, Julie."

I said, "Cars have metal. That's an exaggeration." I pulled out my phone. "See, it's ONLY 108!"

My plants looked like I felt - wilted. Our hair was plastered to our faces. My poor cat was hiding under whatever piece of furniture gave her the coolest escape. It even smelled hot, like burning chicken skin. My AC sounded like a grinding blender and was barely doing anything. Cindy only had fans, so we were better off at my place, but we wanted comfort. I suggested some of the usual options, such as eating ice cream, going swimming, and driving up the mountain.

Cindy whined, "We've been doing all of those things all summer, Julie. I'm gaining weight from ice cream, and I'm tired of swimming and driving up the mountain, especially with the price of gas. Hear me out. This guy on the internet said if you do something extra hot, like getting in a sauna, then everywhere else will seem cool by comparison."

"I don't know. Seems like a silly notion. Also, neither of us has a sauna."

"I know, but there's a hot tub in my backyard, remember? This could work. Come on, Julie, what do we have to lose? We're already hot. We'll just take it up a notch and then we'll have pure relief."

I sighed, "This is either brilliant or the beginning of a documentary about two idiots. We can try it, but if it doesn't work, you're buying ice cream."

"Fine. I have a good feeling about this."

That made one of us. When we got to Cindy's place, she went out back to fire up the hot tub while I stood in front of one of her blow dryers fans. While we waited, we sipped some soda on the rocks and talked about Christmas, and polar bears, and glaciers.

Cindy stood up and clapped twice. "That should be good. Let's try it."

Just ditching the clothing down to our swimsuits felt nice.

I looked in the tub. "Cindy, that water looks angry."

"It's just warm." She checked the temperature. "104 degrees."

"That's not warm. That's soup."

"We'll just try for five minutes."

"Five minutes is a long time when you're being poached."

Still, we climbed in. At first, it wasn't too bad.

"Ohhhhh!" Cindy sighed.

I relaxed. "Actually, this is kind of nice."

"See? Told you, Julie!"

A minute later, I said, "I'm starting to sweat."

"That means it's working."

"I'm sweating from my eyebrows."

"Excellent!"

Four minutes in, Cindy said, "I can't feel my legs."

"Is it because they're relaxed?"

"No, Julie. I think they resigned. Let's get out and see if it's better."

We stood up. I said, "I don't feel cooler."

"I feel hotter." Cindy's eyes went wide. "Much hotter. Let's go back in the house and see if we can tell the difference in there."

The outside temperature was still 108, and we had left our shoes by the door. We ran towards the house.

"Ouch!"

"Ow!"

We looked like we were in a poorly organized dance competition.

When we were finally inside, we realized her fans were no longer running. We looked at each other and said in unison, "Power outage."

Cindy added, "I think the hot tub made us blow a circuit. Let's go to Walmart. I'll buy the ice cream."

"That's the best suggestion you've made all day!"

The store was blessedly air conditioned. We ended up staying there - pretending to shop - all afternoon. We made our way down aisles we didn't know existed. We finished in the ice cream section, each of us picking out a half gallon of our favorite.

We beat the heat after all.