A great work environment

It’s been hot for the past few days – really hot. Like in the 90s (30-35 degrees C). At the office, our air conditioning unit in the newsroom finally gave in this week.

First, it started as a trickle right next to my desk. Then there was a flood. For three days, we had wastebaskets covering the wettest spots.

We even had to wrap my neighbor's computer, monitor and keyboard in garbage bags to prevent damage (see photo above).

If we kept the A/C on, there was a constant trickle. If we turned the A/C off, it gushed down. So we left it on. The first time the fixer guys came, they said it was a compressor or something, so they replaced it. That afternoon it got even worse.

The repairmen came back and decided we need a new unit. That's $15,000 we can't afford to spend right now, our publisher said.

We spent the weekend trying to set up big fans all over the place that could blow the cool air in from other departments. One evening I even worked in another room because I had a terrible headache and the heat made me nauseated. But at least the dripping has stopped.

Thank goodness I’m not working today – the worst days out of all of them.

Hot, hot, hot!

On some days, I really miss Sweden. I probably wrote the exact same thing last year around this time, but we just had an 85-degree day (Fahrenheit... hold on... converting: 29 degrees).

It is freaking April, and just three nights ago I had to drive with a coat on and the heat on in my car! I don't understand. Where is spring??? What happened to all the wonderful days of mild weather when I can walk in sandals and a T-shirt before the real yucky, humid summer heat begins to overwhelm us and I have to wear as little as possible???

It was so bad that on Saturday I drove straight to the oil-change place and got my air conditioning charged up in my car so that I could last for another hour. It now blows air at 40 degrees (4 Celsius), perhaps lower if I go on the highway. Cannot wait to try it out Tuesday on my way to work doing 68 mph on Route 8!

Just wondering what I'm gonna do to get through the night, since we haven't installed the a/c units for the season yet... (and no, opening windows does not help - it just gets worse!).

Happy Independence Day!

Happy Independence Day, everyone!

A few years ago - my first summer in the United States - I made the mistake of going into New York City with some friends to see the fireworks.

The FDR highway going along the east side of Manhattan was closed, and people were lining up around 4 p.m. for that night's show.

We sat there on the ground, in heat over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, waiting for hours. We stared at the East River, we sipped our water, and we socialized with some fellow tourists.

The fireworks that evening were magnificent. The heat, however, was not.


Luckily, I'm going to be inside tonight, working. If I have time, I'll climb up on the roof, where I can see most of Torrington. Hopefully, that'll be the most eventful part of my day.

Humidity and hair

Some people love the summer - I don't.

I can't stand it when it's hot and humid - and look what it does to my hair! Well, ok then, that's not the worst part.

The worst part is walking around feeling disgusting all the time, feeling itchy and sweaty and dirty. Then each breath takes three times the effort. And it's not because I'm doing any sort of heavy lifting or running or anything, that's just how it is with humitidy for me.

I'm positive my Swedish lungs are not made to take in all that water vapor in the air. After all, Scandinavian's don't usually have to do that.

A little bit of warmth I can handle - give me a sunny, 70-degree day and I'll be all set. It's when the temps rise above 80 and the humidity creeps over 60 percent that my skin starts to crawl.

Thank goodness for air conditioning - at home, in the car, at the office. With energy costs continuously rising, I just hope I can afford it through September, when life finally goes back to normal.

'Just another year'

When I came to the United States, it was only supposed to be for a year.

It was August 1998, and I stepped off my KLM flight from Amsterdam and walked through two sliding doors into a disgustingly humid summer night at JFK airport. The hotel room I was sharing with three other au pairs-to-be had air conditioning, but neither of us knew how to turn it on.

I complained to my host father that night on the phone. I said “I don’t know if I can take this heat!” Laughing, he told me I wouldn’t have to worry about being hot in his home. I soon learned that he keeps the entire house at a comfortable 70 degrees Fahrenheit year round. “You’re gonna like it here,” he said.

It wasn’t long before he predicted I was here to stay. “I’ll make a bet with you,” he said, “that you’ll still be here in five years.”

“No way,” I told him. “This is only for a year. Then I’m going back to Sweden.”
He smiled, nodded, and said, “We’ll see.”

Around Christmastime, I was thinking that perhaps a year wasn’t sufficient for all I wanted to do. Being placed near New York, I hadn’t had a chance to see the West Coast yet. The Grand Canyon, of course, was a must, and I should really try to visit Texas, Florida and Alaska as well. Then again, there were enough things in New York City to keep me busy. I just couldn’t get enough of this fast-paced area that’s never asleep.

I approached my host father about this problem. He was ready with a solution. “You should go to school,” he said. “Take some college classes, and get a student visa to stay for another year.”

So, in the summer of 1999, I took two weeks off to go home to Sweden, get a new passport and get a new visa. My grandmother asked me why I was going away again, and I assured her, “It’s just one more year.” Then I was off again.

Community college was exciting. I took classes during the day and was home at 3 p.m. when Little Mike got out of school. We did our homework, played some Nintendo, had some dinner.

Of course, you don’t get a degree at a community college unless you go full-time for two years – 64 credits. Since the first year was so easy, I decided I should really just stay and get an associate’s degree. The visa was already approved for another year, so why not? It was just another year.

But living with a family that’s not your own, no matter how close you are, can get bothersome. I realized that to really be able to focus on school, I should move into my own place. I got some student loans from Sweden, and I found myself a roommate. And my third year was on its way.

Now, an associate’s degree doesn’t really count for much in Sweden. You need a bachelor’s degree, at least, for the school board to consider it. That takes two more years. Again, I had to make some decisions. I could go back to Sweden, or I could stay and finish my degree. I chose to stay.

Money was, of course, always the issue. With guidance from my host father, I sent out six college applications. All of them were accepted. Three schools offered me scholarships. Quinnipiac University offered me two scholarships, so it was obvious I was headed for Connecticut.

With student loans and the two scholarships, I was still about $5,000 short of a year’s tuition. I therefore decided to work in wealthy Greenwich for a summer with a nice family that had four children, a dog, a cat, a bird, fish and a lizard. In the fall, I went to Quinnipiac and my fourth year in this country was on its way.

It was pretty obvious that I should stay and finish my degree, so the fifth year there was never an option of going back. And once you have a degree, you are allowed work in the United States for one year to do what is called “Optical Practical Training.” At this point, in 2003, I had stopped saying “just another year.”

It’s now 2007, and I will reluctantly admit that my host father was right. Perhaps, after nine years, I can say that I am here to stay, after all. But it was never my intention. It was just what life had in store for me. Sometimes, I guess others can predict your future better than you can.