It's hot. I don't do well in the heat. I'm a complete wuss about being overheated. Actually, if we're being really honest, I'm pretty much a complete wuss about most things. Tight seat belts, uncomfortable pants, long hikes... you name it. When it's hot like this I typically sleep on top of the covers with a fan approximately 12 inches from me on full blast. Jeff wears pajamas and sleeps under the covers. He's also currently wearing jeans, a belt, an undershirt with long sleeved button down over it, socks and shoes. It's 10pm and at least 80 degrees still.
Last year we bought an AC unit for our bedroom because Jeff took pity on my 8 months pregnant body sweltering in 100+ degree temperatures. But then he removed the unit in the winter because it was "tacky". I don't have the nerve to ask him to reinstall it this year because I haven't quite erased the memory of him sweating buckets and swearing angrily while standing on a ladder trying to pry open our 102 year old window from the outside in order to install it the first time. I think he knows this. The AC unit sits smugly in our chilly but unfinished and spider infested basement.
All of this is to say that I am apparently maturing as a person and becoming Selfless with a capital S because I gave Edie my fan for the night. This is the Jill equivalent to someone giving their last scrap of bread to someone, knowing that their next meal is days away. I was feeling just a tiny bit resentful as I walked up the stairs to our bedroom just now, feeling the temperature rise with each step. This resentment was making me maybe more just selfless with no caps, but then I peeked in and looked at my sleeping Bubs and, really? Is there anything cuter than my meaty baby all curled up on her side wearing nothing but a diaper and a short shirt, clutching her square of blanket, the fan blowing her crazy hair all over the place?
She can have my fan any day.