How Does Heat In Tent Affect Sleep Quality?

"Mom, help! Dad locked me in the car!" It was 2:00 pm in the blazing heat of a summer afternoon, and my heart stopped when I heard my daughter's panicked voice. I immediately began searching for my daughter, but my husband sounded impatient when he answered my call. "Holly's in a bad mood. I'm taking her to the amusement park. Why are you overreacting? She'll be fine." He sounded annoyed and hung up immediately after he was done speaking. The dial tone buzzed in my ear, but all I could think was that he'd better pray nothing happened to her.

My boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart had bound a transfer system to me, causing the cool air around me to automatically converge on her. From then on, her family no longer had to pay for air conditioning. They even made a fortune by selling the cool air at a low price, thanks to this supernatural arrangement. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he was lying in his childhood sweetheart’s arms while eating an ice pop. He looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Your family is so poor that you can’t even afford to run the AC. Instead of looking at yourself, you came up with such a ridiculous excuse.” Later, I installed three air conditioners at home, but it did not help at all. In the end, I literally baked to death in an air-conditioned room at 60 degrees Fahrenheit. By the time I was discovered, I had turned into a dried corpse. Even after my death, my boyfriend still tried to profit off my misfortune. He became an internet sensation as the “first person to discover a dried corpse in an air-conditioned room.” He went on to live the life of a rich influencer with his little sweetheart. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day his little sweetheart had bound the transfer system to me. Knowing the future ahead, I immediately booked a reservation at the nearest sauna to escape the heat!

My older sister Katie said she missed me and requested I visit her. The second day at her place, the apocalyptic heatwave arrived. I fought tooth and nail in the supermarket for food and coolant—she told me I'm shameless and have no self-respect. I offered a high price in the community chat for supplies—she sneered at me and said that anything stored for so long must be disgusting, contaminated by bacteria. Yet, she threw herself into the arms of the man living across the hallway just for a bit of food. While cuddled in his arms, she watched me die in the heatwave. When I opened my eyes again, I heard her on the phone saying she missed me. Well, keep on missing me!

"This is a notice regarding proper use of the air conditioning. Please sign to acknowledge receipt." My six-year-old son stood there with a stern little frown, slapping a sheet of paper down in front of me. I glanced at the page. Written in colorful marker were several neatly listed "charges." The whole thing felt absurd. When I did not respond, he pointed at the paper like a tiny adult. "Mom, you didn't turn the air down in time yesterday. That could've affected my health. It was very irresponsible." I looked toward my husband, who had just gotten home from work, hoping he would say something, anything, in my defense. Instead, he snatched up the paper and slapped it down on the table, his voice sharp. "Can't you be more attentive? Our son's health comes first. If you can't even handle something this simple, what kind of mother are you?" With someone backing him up, our son's eyes immediately reddened. He burst into tears. "Mom doesn't love me!" The two of them, playing judge and jury, left me suddenly breathless. "Fine," I said at last. "If I'm such an unfit mother, I'll leave. Let your father find you a new one, someone who knows how to set the air conditioning properly."

My roommate, Keith Kavanaugh, calls himself the "Holy Son of Frost". On the very first day we meet, he insists that the air conditioner in our dorm room must stay on until October, and the temperature can never go above 50°F. He claims, "A mystic says I'm the Holy Son of Frost, so I have a rare physique. I can only live in cool environments of 50°F at most." He even starts live-streaming, and his "special condition" instantly attracts a huge following. Meanwhile, I'm sitting right in front of the AC vent, so I'm shivering all over from the cold. I quickly turn the temperature up, but he immediately turns it back down and even locks the remote in his cabinet. "We're all educated college students here. Why are you so selfish?" he questions. Faced with his unreasonable accusation, I hold back my anger and try to reason with him. "We're in the north region. The weather here is cool enough in September. There's no need to set the AC this low. But if you insist, I can switch spots with you…" Keith cuts me off impatiently, "Are you crazy? Who sleeps right in front of the AC vent? What if I get sick from it? No one else has a problem. Why are you the only one making a fuss? Let me warn you—I'll melt from the heat. If you make me uncomfortable during my stay, I'll have you kicked out!" I realize there's no reasoning with him, so I plan to contact the dorm counselor to switch rooms. But Keith beats me to it! He goes to her first, records a video, and even posts it online. He accuses me, a local student, of being selfish and bullying him, someone who is from out of town. Just then, a new post suddenly appears on the campus forum. The poster writes, "My roommates are too wasteful. One guy washes his hair every day, and he even uses running water. He even takes a shower after every training session! Meanwhile, I can wash my whole body with just one damp towel. "And the worst part of this is that they want to kick me out after I made an itemized bill to split expenses. These cheapskates are always taking advantage of me. I'm looking for a high-quality dorm to take me in." My eyes light up instantly. He's the one!

I ranked first across the entire district on our first statewide college entrance practice exam, but no one in my family was happy. All because I accidentally laughed once at the dinner table. My father, who had always favored my cousin, exploded. "Trevor had a bad practice exam, and you're sitting there laughing?" "If it weren't for you, Trevor's parents wouldn't have died so young! How dare you use your score to humiliate him?" Without listening to a word I said, Dad shoved me into the home sauna and locked the door from the outside. But I had a congenital heart condition. I couldn't survive extreme heat, so I pounded on the door and begged for help. My parents ignored me. They moved into the condo they had bought near Trevor's prep school, cleared their work schedules, and devoted themselves to helping him prepare for the final exam. They completely forgot about me until exam day, when my homeroom teacher called. "Mr. and Mrs. Pruitt, where is Micah? Why hasn't he arrived for the statewide college entrance exam?" They froze, then raced back to the family estate in a panic. When they saw what remained inside the sauna, they completely broke down.