Allow me to paint you a picture, try not to gouge your eyes out and resist vomiting until the end. I am sitting in the house we have called home for the last five years. To be specific, I am in the living room typing on my “desk” of packed bento boxes (boxed bento boxes). Earlier, I woke to thunder and a profound feeling of being wet. Not wet, like after a shower or out in the rain or any other wet that would be pleasurable. No wet, like after being stuck in a sauna for to long. Not a part of me felt dry and every part of me stuck to the sheet. Two box fans blew across the bed causing me to freeze as soon as I sat up because I was indeed moist all over.
The bedroom felt moist. No amount of wind from the window or box fans changed this. Hoping that a change of room would, I headed downstairs, walking through a hallway, down some stairs, and into the living room feeling wetter and stickier the whole way. Sitting in front of a box fan feels like sitting in front of a box fan after a day of labor or coming in to an air conditioned house after being out in the sun. I have neither performed labor nor been outside; as for the sun, no sign here.
I feel moist. Not a good feeling either and I am starting to dislike the word. Wet, I could handle. Sweaty I could handle. Moist is neither, kind of a between state, I am not wholly wet, but I am wholly stick and feel moist.
And this is why there are two distinct times of the year I hate being here. I know, much like wanting to get away from stupid people, that these times of the year are not going away, but for five years they have been here and they suck.
The worst time of year, because it last for so much longer, winter particularly when the POLAR VORTEX settles in. Here, the windows freeze over inside and out. The heat causes the interior ice to thaw then freeze which results in mold growth in the winter and as soon as the temperatures rise, rapid expansion of mold; this year I had to clean a window four times just for mold growth. The front door, even with the new door, freezes over on the inside. We no longer need an ice pick to escape, but there is one nearby. The temperature of the place is cold no matter how high the heat is one because of the non-stop drafts caused by ill fitting doors and windows.
The second worst time of the year is now, the Dog Days of Summer. The temperature pushes 90+ degrees and the humidity makes breathing difficult. To hot to cook, act, fuck, or anything else. The time of year when living in a drafty house would seem like a good thing, except the wind does not blow and the house fan only sucks in the moisture and heat, punishing you for thinking you could be comfortable in your own place. Thankfully, these times only last for so long, but while they are here, I understand moist.