What One Girl Knows

I hate how hot New York summers are. Last year I climbed the stairs to the subway in the mornings and felt consistently like vomiting because of the humidity. Jason and I would crank up our broken air conditioner and sleep on damp bath towels.

This year we have a cute new air conditioner that works, but works slowly. It takes forever to get our studio apartment down four or five degrees. So it's hot in here. Eighty degrees hot. I'm surprised the pets aren't panting right now.