This week it’s going to hit 120. Ah, Phoenix, how I love you.

Okay, not really. 120 degree-heat sucks.

And everyone in the Valley is going to be talking about how much 120 degree-heat sucks. Heck, we’re already talking about it and it hasn’t even happened yet.

But that’s life here. People complain about the heat. A lot. Especially in the summer It’s practically a requirement if you want to call yourself a Phoenician.

I’ve lived in Phoenix for 33 years (34 come September) and I toss my hat in the complaint parade every year. This year, however, I’m changing my tune.

Because over time I’ve realized something: I don’t mind the heat.

I don’t love it. But it doesn’t bother me. I live in a house with AC. My car has AC. Every building in Phoenix has AC. I mostly work from home. I stay inside during the hottest parts of the day and if I have to run an errand, I go as as early as possible in the morning. I walk my dog at 5 am and after the sun sets. I use my common sense and I stay out of the heat.

Therefore, I’m not bothered by it.

Being cold, though. That bothers me. I have thin blood, what can I say? I would much rather be hot than cold. Hot, I can handle. Hot means sitting under the fan, right next to the AC vent, and sipping sparkling water. Cold means layers. Chattering teeth. Frozen skin. Which is why I have a love/hate relationship with winter.

I enjoy the cold at first. Then I get tired of pulling the blankets up to my chin as soon as I get into bed. Of wearing socks and sweaters all the time. Of putting on gloves when I walk my dog and heavy jackets when I go out.

So bring on the heat, I say.

Ooops, I mean, summer in Phoenix sucks! Get out while you can!