A Hot Time On The Water

 

By Christina Oxenberg

 

For a couple of years I have lived comfortably in my dollhouse at the center of the island. I love it but, with no view and no breeze and after a childhood believing in castles, I do at times feel cramped.

 

 

When I tripped across a second-story apartment on the water, with a balcony and a view of the Gulf of Mexico, I fell hard. That it was a houseboat, listing at an angle and with a spider the size of my hand swinging in a closet, did not deter me and I sped blindly ahead and signed the lease. A village of friends with muscles and trucks moved me to my new domicile, everybody congratulating me on my find.

 

 

That first night I lovingly arranged my things but I noticed it was a bit warm and when I checked the thermostat it was in the 90s. I opened windows and in rushed the breeze, and I hung over the balcony and gloated at that gorgeous view of darkness and the lights of sailboats in the bay. And I waited, and then I checked the thermostat again, it was hotter. So I closed all of the windows and switched on the AC as low as it would go. And I waited and waited and checked the temperature again. Hotter.

 

 

I stood on a chair and waved my hand in front of the vent where sure enough cold air feebly exited but it was too weak to cool the rooms.

 

 

The faintest whiff of panic hit me. With every second I found my breathing was more labored, until gradually I was hyperventilating, pulling in short tiny breaths and soon I was dizzy and I knew I had to get out of there.

 

 

As if walking on the moon, I slowly made it down the stairs and across the courtyard to my car. I got in and blasted the air conditioning and I sat there in the icebox car and acknowledged I had made a terrible mistake. Mercifully a sweet friend took me in for the night, letting me sleep on her sofa.

 

 

Now, I must overdose on humble pie and beg for my deposit to be returned from the houseboat disaster and must now beg for permission to return to my dollhouse. I know one large hairy closet-dwelling spider will be relieved by my retreat.

 

 

Today, I am back in the dollhouse and I have never loved it so much. I’ll blame my super freaky behavior on the Super Moon. Howl On!

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