It's official: I was a spoiled brat growing up. Fairview, Penn., was certainly not the desert, nor was it the North Pole. I experienced four seasons while I lived in northwest Pennsylvania. Summer and early fall in Fairview meant living through humidity and lots of it. Living on Lake Erie it was assumed that 45% humidity was a good day. Most days I swear it lingered around 70%. It was often muggy for most of July, all of August and parts of September. Okay, I shouldn't exclude June. It's humid in June most years, too.

I recall the move into college being agonizingly hot, humid and just plain miserable. The first two or three weeks of college were utterly disgusting, since our dorm rooms did not have air conditioning, and I was lugging bags upon boxes of personal possessions into those hot-air traps made for sweat and irritable roommates (i.e. me).

See, during the summer months my parents always set the air conditioning to a delightful level; probably around 69-72 degrees Fahrenheit. The experience of late August in college meant relearning what humidity was all about.

Well it turns out that those 22 years of life, followed by 2 in Indiana, where most of the summer I spent it again, in air conditioning, meant that this latest move into NW Pasadena also means a shock to Libby's system: no air conditioning. I'm not in Fuller housing for the summer months, by the way. I really tried hard to make it a whole week with only one fan in our second floor room (a fan that points towards the door, not me). These mid-90 days have been treacherously warm at 4 pm.

I gave in yesterday. I bought a second fan. It has a remote, which I find ridiculous, hilarious and amazing all at the same time. But it's got me thinking? I can handle this for a week on a mission trip in Mexico in mid-June, at camp for a week in July. But why do I think I'm so special that I have to spend money just to keep me feeling good. I drive past homeless people every day now, on my so-called commute to work. I live in a part of Pasadena known for it's low-income housing, gang district, and just poverty everywhere. It has character, it has a different vibrancy to it's life. But why do I feel ok driving with my new remote controlled fan, instead of bearing it for the sake of buying someone else a meal?

I've got a lot more to learn and figure out while I'm on this Earth, don't I?