Writing Tips

Your Air Conditioner Is Lying to You

My electric bill last month was disgusting. I’ve kept my window air-conditioning units on for hours every day, and now I have to pay the price: the most expensive month of cooling that I’ve ever had. If there ever was a time to press my AC’s MONEY SAVER button, it would be now. But I don’t think I will, not this summer and not ever—because money-saver mode has always struck me as a sham. In the murky world of home air-conditioning, “money saver” may go by different names. Some models have an ECO button, to signal that it’s more economically—or ecologically—sound. Others go with ENERGY SAVER. However it’s described, the benefit this setting claims to offer—a cheaper way to reach and hold your set-point temperature—seems too good to be true. If it were really possible to keep my living room at 72 degrees in money-saver mode, just like I do with normal cooling, then why should any other AC modes exist? (Wouldn’t they be a MONEY WASTER, by definition?) But if there is, in fact, some hidden trade-off here—if, for instance, using money-saver mode doesn’t really bring my living room all the way to 72 degrees, or keep it at that temperature—then the whole thing feels like misdirection. Why not just turn up the thermostat a few degrees myself? Wouldn’t that be like putting it in money-saver mode the old-fashioned way?My electric bill last month was disgusting. I’ve kept my window air-conditioning units on for hours every day, and now I have to pay the price: the most expensive month of cooling that I’ve ever had. If there ever was a time to press my AC’s MONEY SAVER button, it would be now. But I don’t think I will, not this summer and not ever—because money-saver mode has always struck me as a sham. In the murky world of home air-conditioning, “money saver” may go by different names. Some models have an ECO button, to signal that it’s more economically—or ecologically—sound. Others go with ENERGY SAVER. However it’s described, the benefit this setting claims to offer—a cheaper way to reach and hold your set-point temperature—seems too good to be true. If it were really possible to keep my living room at 72 degrees in money-saver mode, just like I do with normal cooling, then why should any other AC modes exist? (Wouldn’t they be a MONEY WASTER, by definition?) But if there is, in fact, some hidden trade-off here—if, for instance, using money-saver mode doesn’t really bring my living room all the way to 72 degrees, or keep it at that temperature—then the whole thing feels like misdirection. Why not just turn up the thermostat a few degrees myself? Wouldn’t that be like putting it in money-saver mode the old-fashioned way?My electric bill last month was disgusting. I’ve kept my window air-conditioning units on for hours every day, and now I have to pay the price: the most expensive month of cooling that I’ve ever had. If there ever was a time to press my AC’s MONEY SAVER button, it would be now. But I don’t think I will, not this summer and not ever—because money-saver mode has always struck me as a sham. In the murky world of home air-conditioning, “money saver” may go by different names. Some models have an ECO button, to signal that it’s more economically—or ecologically—sound. Others go with ENERGY SAVER. However it’s described, the benefit this setting claims to offer—a cheaper way to reach and hold your set-point temperature—seems too good to be true. If it were really possible to keep my living room at 72 degrees in money-saver mode, just like I do with normal cooling, then why should any other AC modes exist? (Wouldn’t they be a MONEY WASTER, by definition?) But if there is, in fact, some hidden trade-off here—if, for instance, using money-saver mode doesn’t really bring my living room all the way to 72 degrees, or keep it at that temperature—then the whole thing feels like misdirection. Why not just turn up the thermostat a few degrees myself? Wouldn’t that be like putting it in money-saver mode the old-fashioned way? My electric bill last month was disgusting. I’ve kept my window air-conditioning units on for hours every day, and now I have to pay the price: the most expensive month of cooling that I’ve ever had. If there ever was a time to press my AC’s MONEY SAVER button, it would be now. But I don’t think I will, not this summer and not ever—because money-saver mode has always struck me as a sham. In the murky world of home air-conditioning, “money saver” may go by different names. Some models have an ECO button, to signal that it’s more economically—or ecologically—sound. Others go with ENERGY SAVER. However it’s described, the benefit this setting claims to offer—a cheaper way to reach and hold your set-point temperature—seems too good to be true. If it were really possible to keep my living room at 72 degrees in money-saver mode, just like I do with normal cooling, then why should any other AC modes exist? (Wouldn’t they be a MONEY WASTER, by definition?) But if there is, in fact, some hidden trade-off here—if, for instance, using money-saver mode doesn’t really bring my living room all the way to 72 degrees, or keep it at that temperature—then the whole thing feels like misdirection. Why not just turn up the thermostat a few degrees myself? Wouldn’t that be like putting it in money-saver mode the old-fashioned way? My electric bill last month was disgusting. I’ve kept my window air-conditioning units on for hours every day, and now I have to pay the price: the most expensive month of cooling that I’ve ever had. If there ever was a time to press my AC’s MONEY SAVER button, it would be now. But I don’t think I will, not this summer and not ever—because money-saver mode has always struck me as a sham. In the murky world of home air-conditioning, “money saver” may go by different names. Some models have an ECO button, to signal that it’s more economically—or ecologically—sound. Others go with ENERGY SAVER. However it’s described, the benefit this setting claims to offer—a cheaper way to reach and hold your set-point temperature—seems too good to be true. If it were really possible to keep my living room at 72 degrees in money-saver mode, just like I do with normal cooling, then why should any other AC modes exist? (Wouldn’t they be a MONEY WASTER, by definition?) But if there is, in fact, some hidden trade-off here—if, for instance, using money-saver mode doesn’t really bring my living room all the way to 72 degrees, or keep it at that temperature—then the whole thing feels like misdirection. Why not just turn up the thermostat a few degrees myself? Wouldn’t that be like putting it in money-saver mode the old-fashioned way?

Writing Tips

Scientists Are One Step Closer to Demystifying ‘Aphantasia’

Two years ago, Sarah Shomstein realized she didn’t have a mind’s eye. The vision scientist was sitting in a seminar room, listening to a scientific talk, when the presenter asked the audience to imagine an apple. Shomstein closed her eyes and did so. Then, the presenter asked the crowd to open their eyes and rate how vividly they saw the apple in their mind. Saw the apple? Shomstein was confused. She didn’t actually see an apple. She could think about an apple: its taste, its shape, its color, the way light might hit it. But she didn’t see it. Behind her eyes, “it was completely black,” Shomstein recalled. And yet, “I imagined an apple.” Most of her colleagues reacted differently. They reported actually seeing an apple, some vividly and some faintly, floating like a hologram in front of them. Two years ago, Sarah Shomstein realized she didn’t have a mind’s eye. The vision scientist was sitting in a seminar room, listening to a scientific talk, when the presenter asked the audience to imagine an apple. Shomstein closed her eyes and did so. Then, the presenter asked the crowd to open their eyes and rate how vividly they saw the apple in their mind. Saw the apple? Shomstein was confused. She didn’t actually see an apple. She could think about an apple: its taste, its shape, its color, the way light might hit it. But she didn’t see it. Behind her eyes, “it was completely black,” Shomstein recalled. And yet, “I imagined an apple.” Most of her colleagues reacted differently. They reported actually seeing an apple, some vividly and some faintly, floating like a hologram in front of them.Two years ago, Sarah Shomstein realized she didn’t have a mind’s eye. The vision scientist was sitting in a seminar room, listening to a scientific talk, when the presenter asked the audience to imagine an apple. Shomstein closed her eyes and did so. Then, the presenter asked the crowd to open their eyes and rate how vividly they saw the apple in their mind. Saw the apple? Shomstein was confused. She didn’t actually see an apple. She could think about an apple: its taste, its shape, its color, the way light might hit it. But she didn’t see it. Behind her eyes, “it was completely black,” Shomstein recalled. And yet, “I imagined an apple.” Most of her colleagues reacted differently. They reported actually seeing an apple, some vividly and some faintly, floating like a hologram in front of them. Two years ago, Sarah Shomstein realized she didn’t have a mind’s eye. The vision scientist was sitting in a seminar room, listening to a scientific talk, when the presenter asked the audience to imagine an apple. Shomstein closed her eyes and did so. Then, the presenter asked the crowd to open their eyes and rate how vividly they saw the apple in their mind. Saw the apple? Shomstein was confused. She didn’t actually see an apple. She could think about an apple: its taste, its shape, its color, the way light might hit it. But she didn’t see it. Behind her eyes, “it was completely black,” Shomstein recalled. And yet, “I imagined an apple.” Most of her colleagues reacted differently. They reported actually seeing an apple, some vividly and some faintly, floating like a hologram in front of them. Two years ago, Sarah Shomstein realized she didn’t have a mind’s eye. The vision scientist was sitting in a seminar room, listening to a scientific talk, when the presenter asked the audience to imagine an apple. Shomstein closed her eyes and did so. Then, the presenter asked the crowd to open their eyes and rate how vividly they saw the apple in their mind. Saw the apple? Shomstein was confused. She didn’t actually see an apple. She could think about an apple: its taste, its shape, its color, the way light might hit it. But she didn’t see it. Behind her eyes, “it was completely black,” Shomstein recalled. And yet, “I imagined an apple.” Most of her colleagues reacted differently. They reported actually seeing an apple, some vividly and some faintly, floating like a hologram in front of them.Two years ago, Sarah Shomstein realized she didn’t have a mind’s eye. The vision scientist was sitting in a seminar room, listening to a scientific talk, when the presenter asked the audience to imagine an apple. Shomstein closed her eyes and did so. Then, the presenter asked the crowd to open their eyes and rate how vividly they saw the apple in their mind. Saw the apple? Shomstein was confused. She didn’t actually see an apple. She could think about an apple: its taste, its shape, its color, the way light might hit it. But she didn’t see it. Behind her eyes, “it was completely black,” Shomstein recalled. And yet, “I imagined an apple.” Most of her colleagues reacted differently. They reported actually seeing an apple, some vividly and some faintly, floating like a hologram in front of them.