I remembered the words of a friend’s parent who had chuckled over dinner one night up in Queensland when we told them we were moving to Victoria. “At least you know what to expect in Brisbane — hot and humid — period. But it’s reliable!”

Those words were dancing around in my head as I talked to my husband on Saturday night. “You need to know before you get home that there isn’t any air conditioning and the air is barely breathable. I don’t know how we’re going to sleep because by the time you get here, it’s supposed to be up to well over 40 degrees celcius (over 100 fahrenheit) again tomorrow.”

He listened quietly on the phone from Sydney as he prepared for a final dinner out with his colleagues after a week long seminar. Then he exhaled loudly and said simply, “I see.”

The temperatures had climbed a little higher every single day throughout the week that Mark was away until they were sizzling by the end of the week. I had been cool and comfortable whilst sitting in the livingroom working at the laptop when a terrible burning-electrical smell wafted into the room.

Racing up to the panel on the air-conditioner, I pleaded with it, “No, no, no! Don’t DO this!” Then I turned off the power and waited for it to cool down. Perhaps it was simply overheated since the outside air was oven-like. That could be it — right?

No such luck! An hour later I nervously turned it back on and air blew from the panels — just plain air — not cold air — and the compressor was no longer coming on. I am not exaggerating one bit — a sense of doom poured through me. I spent the next 2 days and nights drinking litres of water with lemon wedges and trying in vain to sleep with dampened sarongs on my body, a spray mister filled with water by my bedside, and fans blasting air on the highest setting on the bed.

Mark returned on Sunday and agreed that it was not the best of homecomings but he was still floating from his week long intensive getting his Tai Chi instructor certificate and I don’t think he fully noticed how dreadful it was that first night back.

Monday dawned and we made the trek into the next larger town to purchase a new air conditioner and some other supplies. The sidewalks felt like they were melting as we walked to a cafe while the tyre dealer put new ones on the back of the van. It was 44.5C/112F and I was simply nauseous from the heat by that point. But there was no time to get it installed that day and we were forced to sleep in a house that only went down by a few degrees that night. We were not alone in our misery. All over Victoria — people were sweltering.

Day 4 and the Tuesday morning temperatures were just as harsh as the previous morning. I mentioned to Mark that I hadn’t seen a bird in days. They had gone into hiding to survive the blast-furnace conditions apparently.

We are lucky that Mark owns his own business and he could move his schedule around to install the air conditioning that afternoon and everything worked perfectly. But the strangest trick of fate was waiting for us later that day.

Just as he got the unit in place and the remote control working — the temperatures plummeted within one hour to 17C/62.5F — and suddenly my overheated skin was freezing! That night, a mere 24 hours after I had been lying sleepless in sheets that were so hot and damp that they felt like a steam iron against my skin, I was tucked up in bed in long pajamas with a blanket on top to stay warm.

Another thing to tick off on the list of if-I-could-find-a-perfect-environment would be CONSISTENT seasonal weather. (sigh!)

Now– where’s that scalding hot cup of tea when I need it?