At Least I Know Myself....

There are some things in life I am constitutionally opposed to: cartwheels (can only do them in water), math (you already knew this!), fried food (even before the celiac diagnosis), decaf coffee (what's the point?), reading maps (I go by landmarks), and little things that may not relate to physical constitution per se but grate on me nonetheless, like when people use "it's" when they mean "its" and the gratuitous use of the phrase "myriad of"--constitutionally speaking, I am a dork, I suppose.

But there are two huge things I don't tolerate well that I have saved for last: humidity and relaxation. As it is summer in Boston and I have just turned in the draft of The Book, I am facing both of them at the same time. What's a Type A girl with dodgy lungs to do?

Most people love the advent of summer--the flip-flops, the free concerts in Copley Square, the ice creams and flowers and outdoor dining. I like all of those things, too, but I am a hostage to humidity. Once the temperature rises, I know days of sequestering myself in my air-conditioned condo and only leaving to take advantage of my air-conditioned gym are in store. The humidity literally takes my breath away; I step out the door and my airways seem to snap shut. I wheeze louder, cough more, and assume the ghostly pallor of not getting enough air that stands out even more since everyone else is tan. I get excited for the cool, cloudy days everyone else bemoans because I can take long walks outside, and I favor the beach late in the day when everyone else is leaving because the air is better.

And relaxation? I like to do a lot of things: walk the dog, go to restaurants, play games, get coffee with friends, etc. It's the doing nothing part that's difficult. I get edgy and antsy--there is work I could be doing, there are projects I should be starting, there are so many things I could do with this time. I am so used to multi-tasking and juggling a million different things that it actually feels weird to watch a TV show with my husband without simultaneously checking e-mail, making to do lists, and jotting down notes for revisions. I think the fact that our wireless router stopped working this week has been good for me, painful as it has been.

I even brought my laptop on our honeymoon. There. I said it. (Cue sheepish blush).

But before you start to wonder why my husband ever married me in the first place, I will admit I didn't actually use it very much. In fact, the only time I logged on the Internet was to make sure my enrollment in my new husband's health care was processed immediately. (I know, very romantic, but necessary. Illness doesn't give a fig about honeymoons). But just knowing my laptop was near me at all times had a calming effect, and I am proud I didn't spill any of Napa Valley's finest on it.

And yet here I am, facing down several days of vacation and humidity. I've got dinner reservations, activities planned, and multiple wardrobe changes to "relax" my way, and new antibiotics, a Vest, a nebulizer, and central air to combat the humidity and an annoying summer infection.

Between you and me, I'm happy with a week's worth of good meals, Scrabble, and some hiking (off-peak hours, of course). And the laptop.