Fuck Tuesday, Heat
The guy on the radio said the heat index was going to be 105 degrees today. 105! I might as well stick my head in the oven and turn on the gas.
As you may be aware I fucking hate the heat; also, Tuesday is my least favorite day of the week. I get real, uh, remedial in the heat, and cranky, and listless. Have you ever seen movies where the crew on a boat is hot, and dehydrated, and seasick, and they’re just laying on the deck in their own waste staring into the sun while seagulls circle, waiting to peck out their eyes? That, Gentle Reader, is more or less how I feel about the whole thing.
Last night Sarah and I, miserable and snapping at each other, walked around our neighborhood in search of bank lobbies so we could go in and hang out in the A/C, staring at the ATMs. My skin goes apeshit in this weather as well, and I’m already starting to get weird plagues of zits and rashes. Disgusting. Some people bear the heat gracefully, and I envy them. They look like they’re soaking up health, whereas I look like the Day of the Dead in polyester pants.
Maybe the pants are the problem. I should invest in some linen pants. I’m basically a hippie as it is, I might as well go all out.
