Ladies and Gentlemen, last night I was sleeping soundly, but thirst got the better of me and I woke to wet my parched mouth. The room was noticably warmer than when I went to sleep. No wonder I was thirsty. I rolled over to drink from the cup I had sitting on the night stand. As I did so, I saw a shadowy human shaped figure dart away--emphasis on the shadow part. I woke several times that night, always thirsty, always hot. I only saw ghostly movement once more. The other times I kept my eyes shut. I didn't want to deal with it. Clearly, this ghost is almost certainly Oliver Cromwell who no doubt shut off the air conditioner because he seems to hate all things technological.
Look, Mr. Cromwell, that kind of behavior is uncalled for. England is located roughly between 50 and 60 degrees latitude. Mississippi is sitting smack dab at thirty. I don't think you realize, oh ghost of -ocracies past, what a difference that makes temperature-wise. I've been to England this time of year. It can be kind of nice. But guess what, sunshine, our low temperature today is right where your high is. That's right. You're looking at a low 48/high 67. My place has 67 degrees for our low temperature for today. Mind you, this is presented in Fahrenheit because if you're going to go cutting off my A/C in the middle of the night, I'm not going to exert the effort needed to convert to Celcius for you. Plus, you kinda died before Celsius was established. Granted, you kinda died before Fahrenheit was established as well. How convenient that you should die before science established any reliable temperature gague beyond the Freezing-Cold-Cool-Luke Warm-Warm-Hot-Screw This I'm Going Swimming. Let me guess, all of this death before thermometers was done simply so you could pretend to be ingnorant when you turned off that vital cool air in the middle of the night and then in the morning, be like, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know what those numbers mean. I'm a ghost. Oooooo!"
I'm hip to your little games, Cromwell.
You have been informed.