I used to live in Southern New Mexico, where it gets hot on a regular basis in the summer. 110*. In the shade. On a cool day.
But then I moved to Utah. When you think of Utah, besides the Mormon temples and BYU, you think of snow. Isn't that a motto here- Greatest Snow on Earth. And we had the Winter Olympics here in 2002. It was cold then. Below 0*. I know. I stood out in the parking lot with my son so he could play with the marching band at 4:00 in the morning as the torch went by. It was bitter cold.
I think I hate hot worse than I hate cold. At least with cold, you can add layers and sip raspberry coco and curl up under a blanket by the fire and read a book and have a pretty good excuse for not doing anything outside. But with hot? No. People look at you as if you were off your rocker when you say you can't go outside in the heat because you will get sick. (why do you think I read so much?) But it is true. The sun makes me sick. Really, really sick. I started out the summer getting my yard in order. Pulling weeds, planning the fairy garden, adding plants to the pond. But now, it is hot until midnight or later and so I don't sleep and then when I do fall asleep, I don't wake up until after 7 and it is already getting hot again.
Ahh well, good enough reason to curl up on the floor in the hall (where you can actually feel the swamp cooler) with a good book.