Surviving a sweaty night.

Maybe it's because we are from different parts of the world. When it comes to the weather, my Italian amore can withstand all sorts of heat. But when it turns the least bit cold, she's a basket case. Goes nuts. On the other hand, I detest hot times. And have no trouble adapting to an arctic blast and cold, cold winters. I suspect it's how we were acclimated to weather. She on the balmy island of Sardinia in the Mediterranean Sea. Where she has seen snow only once in a lifetime. Meanwhile, I'm located in Minnesota. Where I'm subjected to sub-zero temperatures in the fall, winter and spring. With a possibility of frost before the end of summer. My amore has yet to experience Minnesota in winter. And she may never. Out of fear and common sense. I'm a more brave and accommodating soul. We traveled together. In Trieste. In the middle of a hellish heat wave. In a hotel room without functioning air-conditioning. Albeit, there was a ceiling fan. But we didn't use it. For two reasons. It was noisy and might hamper sleep. Plus the increased risk of catching a cold from a fan draft. But hey, I have no complaint. Because my amore was happy. And I survived the sweaty night. --Jim Broede