Uncommon sounds for uncommon heat

It remains uncommonly hot.
It's so uncommonly hot that the heating and cooling guy who began the installation process for our air conditioning unit when we purchased the house has not yet scheduled a time to complete the task (which couldn't be performed in the dead of winter, for unexplained but probably plausible reasons).
It's so uncommonly hot that I slept on the floor of my daughter's room last night. A gathering of overnight guests meant that available beds were in short supply and the temperature in my other daughter's converted-attic bedroom -- the site of the only empty bed -- must have been in the upper 80s at 11 p.m. last night.
It's so uncommonly hot that the cats won't stray from the kitchen tile, where they splay their arms, legs and tails to take full advantage of the surface cooling.
Oh wait...
It's so uncommonly hot that our traditionally jazz-hating girls don't complain when I play the Stan Getz bossa nova albums in the car as we drive around.
"Jazz Samba," by Getz and Charlie Byrd, and "Getz/Gilberto," the classic by Getz and Joao Gilberto, lazily waft from the car speakers in perfect accompaniment for the type of summer heat (in May?!?!) that slows everyday movement to a trickle.
The girls don't complain about jazz? Now that's uncommonly hot!