I will not complain about the heat. I will not complain about the heat. I will not complain about the heat.
Holy fuckballs, it’s HELLA hot outside, yo! It’s just over 36 degrees celcius today, but the radio people say it feels like 40. Why not 50? Why not a million? I think beyond 35 it’s all academic, no? It’s fucking hot. HOT! (I’ll take it over the snow though. ANY. DAY. So I will not complain.)
But I don’t know why we can’t just have a leisurely spring. I’d love to have mostly sunny weather with a median of 25 degrees for about six weeks… all gradual-like. Is that too much to ask? About four weeks ago, it snowed. We broke out our down jackets again for a couple of days. The the next week it seems to be 12 degrees. Then 22. Then 32. A person can’t get adjusted! It’s not right. No wonder people get sick for no reason at this time of year. Suck. (But I’m not complaining.)
But as I walked down the street (ran, actually) with my shopping bags heavy with a huge-ass jug of laundry detergent, and three bottles dish soap, plus birthday presents for the next three parties coming up, and a denim skirt and a pair of shorts that I had to buy for myself because, dude, it’s fucking HOT outside, I had sweat tricking down between mah bewbs and I just KNOW I had huge wet marks on my shirt beneath said bewbs (which always makes me feel so… ick!) but I passed a huge construction layout in the road, and watched a guy in a heavy jump-suit shovel tar-covered gravel onto the road where it was being repaired. Now THAT guy was SWEATING!! In just breezing past him like I did, I could feel FOR CERTAIN that his surrounding area was at least ten degrees hotter than everywhere else in the city. The poor guy. That’s a job I would not like to have. In the moment, I was very thankful I was not him, and that I was heading home to my chilly air-conditioned house.
Somewhere out there, someone has a harder life, much harder to live than the one you do. Now there’s a mantra.
So I will not complain about the heat.
The evenings are lovely these days though… last night, the children had popsicles on the front steps after dinner. Madame slipped her tutu on over her shorts, which she does now and again. I had to get the camera.
Be safe. Have fun. Happy summer.
G.G.
PS – Did I mention that it’s hot? Oui. Il fait chaud, man. Holy fuck. HAWT!!
