People ask me all the time why I continue to live in Arizona. Usually, they’re asking while standing in the shade, clutching a bottle of water, and trying not to make direct eye contact with the sun.
It’s a fair question.
Every summer, Arizona transforms into what can best be described as the world’s largest air fryer. The weather forecast stops being useful because every day is just some variation of “hot enough to question your life choices.” At 115 degrees, the distinction between 115 and 118 becomes meaningless. That’s like arguing whether you’re being roasted or broiled.
Yet somehow, I stay.
Part of it is because Arizona spoils you for the other nine months of the year. While the rest of the country is scraping ice off windshields, shoveling snow, or trying to figure out which jacket is appropriate for the day’s weather mood swings, I’m sitting outside in January wearing shorts and wondering if I should grab a light sweatshirt because it’s a chilly 68 degrees.
Another reason is that Arizona has taught me resilience. For example, I can now determine the temperature of pavement simply by looking at it. I know that steering wheels are not to be touched without protective equipment between June and September. I also know that if someone says, “It’s a dry heat,” they are either an Arizona resident or someone suffering from mild heat-induced confusion.
Then there are the sunsets. Arizona sunsets are so spectacular they almost make you forget that your car’s dashboard could double as a pizza oven. Almost.
And let’s not overlook the practical benefits. We don’t have to worry much about rust. We don’t shovel snow. We rarely cancel plans because of weather. In fact, when it rains, half the state goes outside just to witness the rare and magical event.
Of course, Arizona residents develop certain habits. We park based on shade availability, not proximity. We celebrate cloudy days like national holidays. We sprint from air-conditioned building to air-conditioned building like we’re crossing enemy territory. And we proudly tell visitors, “You’ll get used to it,” even though deep down we know nobody ever truly gets used to stepping outside and feeling like they’ve opened the door to a preheated oven.
So why do I live in Arizona?
Because despite the heat, it’s beautiful. Because the winters are amazing. Because the desert has a unique charm. And because after surviving another Arizona summer, I get to spend the rest of the year reminding everyone else that while they’re freezing, I’m golfing, biking, grilling, or sitting on the patio enjoying perfect weather.
Besides, moving sounds exhausting, and it’s too hot to pack.