6.26.03. 8pm.
it's too darn hot. a guest entry by katie o.
It's damn hot here. The heat gets under your blankets at night so that you sleep on top of your sheets and kick the comforter on and off at regular intervals. It's the kind of hot that makes you choose clothing based purely on what can practically keep you coolest, rather than what is either fashionable or flattering. I've been living so consistently in the same two pairs of cotton pants that people who see me on a regular basis experience a persistent sense of deja vu.
It's the kind of hot that drives you indoors to the movie theatre, just so you can get the air conditioning. It doesn't matter what you see once you sit down as long as it doesn't make you think too much. Thinking, you see, is basically a set of electrical currents flashing from one place to another, and electricity, I think by definition, is hot. Serenity, a sort of perpetual tranquility, a pre-vegetative meditation, a permanent Buddhist trance, this is the mindset of the people who deal with heat gracefully.
While I sweat like a pig, these paragons of warmer climes glow. Blissfully unaware of the dripping masses who ring out their teeshirts every 15 minutes, they sit outside on these uber-sunny days and read classic works of literature while drinking sun tea. How I envy their cool, dry brows! How I wish them itchy wool sweaters, and lost umbrellas, and static cling!
All right, I'm being unnecessarily bitter and unforgiving. The heat has clearly addled my brain. I think I've lapsed rhapsodic long enough to frighten the staunchest, most loyal of my friends, and those who were still deciding are likely to punch out the chad from the "Run for your life" column. Family, luckily, are stuck with me, as much as I am stuck on them.