It seems that when you get older, it automatically means that you will no longer be able to survive unless it is hot. I have met so many older people, through my mom, and they all walk around in the summer, and you would think that it was winter. I don’t get it because my mom used to be like me. She hated the hot weather, and without her air conditioning, she was miserable. She would walk around in her cut-offs and a t-shirt and she was always complaining about the heat. She preferred winter to summer, any time. Now that she has gotten old, she is forever walking around in a sweater and telling me how cold it is. I will be in shorts and a tank top, my air conditioning will be set to sixty-eight, and I am sweating like a pig. She come out into the living room, and she’ll give a delicate shiver, and wrap her sweater tighter around her chest. I sometimes wonder when she go so old. Last week, she asked me to go to the nursing home with her to visit a friend who had broken her hip. We walked in and I felt like I had walked into a sauna instead of a hospital room. The woman had the blanket tucked under her chin and she said she was cold. I sat down next to the air vent hoping to get just a hint of some cooling air, but I was out of luck. I couldn’t wait to leave and get into my car and have the air conditioning blasting.