Hot, like the bowels of my soul. — Personal
Walking three blocks on my lunch hour in 95 degree heat with humidity at 42% making it feel like 101 is enough to make me ill. The air is so thick it pushes itself inside of my ears like cotton expanding and digging deeper until my head is full and heavy. The food in my stomach seems to spoil the moment it is consumed and I fight the urge to empty its contents. Now back in the cold air conditioned office I'm left with a headache and that stuffy head feeling isn't going away, like I've brought some of that beach water home in my head and its just swirling there, swampy and hot.
It seems that I spend most of the year waiting for the warmth, something to defrost the ice in my blood and to uncramp my chilled muscles. But heat like this is something else entirely. It makes me think of summer vacations at home when the heat would be unbearable and our house would feel as though it captured the entire sun. We had no air conditioning of any kind, just some ceiling fans and floor fans but being as hot as it was fans do nothing but push the heat around, making you more miserable because now you're riding on a breeze of false hope. So my sister and I would retreat to the basement with tuna sandwiches and ice cold pink lemonade. We'd lay on the cool cement floor and watch soap operas and play Nintendo or Intellivision on an old crappy 19 inch television set that we'd occasionally have to hit so that the picture would stop flipping. I'd go into the garage and lay on the pavement with the dog and read a book or take a nap, all of us avoiding the rays of sun like vampires, afraid that even a moments touch would send us up in flames.
Walking the streets of New York in this heat and I have a pretty good idea what Hell could be like. But, ya know, with Satan and some hot lava and lots and lots of screaming.
Mr. Space wrote:
I've been doing the lowest impact commute possible so I don't sweat through my clothes before work. Bus to the subway, take the local so I can sit, take escalator to another local that spits me out on my corner. Usually it's the 10 block walk to the express train, involving crowds, standing, 50/50 chance of no AC, many stairs, and a few blocks walk to the office.
Lunch involves the closest possible food available, even if I don't like it. Even if my NYC sense of principle prevents me from spending $8 on a fucking roast beef sandwich.
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