Ahh, sweet summertime. Temperatures are up and electricity bills are down. (That is, if you're one of the lucky few who don't have air conditioning - wait, what? That can't be right.) The evenings are cool enough that opening the windows and running a few fans is enough to stay comfortable, which is great unless you're quasi-living alone for the first time and are prone to not-so-quasi-paranoid tendencies.
Ever since we got robbed, I've been convinced that every noise I hear in the night is someone trying to break in. At first I was all like, "My dogs will protect me!" but then I remembered that Bravo is afraid of everything* and is constantly doing this thing where he hears something, freezes up, and then barrels over to the window to bark at what I can only assume is a murderer creeping around just outside my bedroom trying to figure out the most painful way to kill me.
So really, the question I'm faced with is this: Would I rather be hacked up while enjoying the caress of a pleasant breeze or die drowning in a pool of my own sweat?
So far I've chosen Door Number 2. It's working out okay, except that my efforts to cover up the eau de b.o. are probably putting me in an equal amount of danger of drowning in a pool of my own perfume.
*Which kinda makes you wonder why we didn't just name him Tremblo or PantsPee McGee...but I guess it's too late to change it now.