Typically I don’t do this kind of weather. I wait for the cooler temps to sweep the city so I can head out and actually breathe. Anything beyond 95 degrees, you’ll know where you find me…indoors. I don’t do ‘hot and humid’ or the three H’s---hot, humid and hazy.
“Smog alert! Please drink lots of water and check on the elderly in your buildings and/or neighborhoods! Also, try not using your air conditioning so we can conserve electricity!”
What? Turn OFF our a/c units? Are you out of your fricken mind? We’re sweating bullets up in our apartments, and the newscaster has the audacity to advise us to conserve electricity. Okay, let me go and shut a light off! For the love of God, it’s a sauna in here!
It always makes me chuckle when the weatherman says, “We got a hot one in store for you! It’s gonna feel like pea soup out there!” Ick. Need I say more? I had to cancel all my appointments and call it a day.
“But Deb, your car is air conditioned and wherever you go, it should be cool inside…” See, I have this irrational fear that somehow, someway, I’m going to pass out and die. It’s even worse than my agoraphobia. It all happened when I was getting out of the gym about two summers ago. It was reaching 95 degrees, and I was nice and cool indoors working out. I was drinking water here and there, but not hydrated enough. Usually, right after my workout, I just jump in my car, and head home to shower. My OCD goes WILD in gym bathrooms—so there is no hope for me washing up in those shower stalls knowing how many people have athlete’s foot, or some other fungus lurking on those floors. Yeah yeah, I know, buy those idiotic looking rubber shoes. No.
So I walk out of the gym and really felt the heat. Keep in mind I’m still sweating from a long two hour workout. I get in my stifling car and head home. I kept feeling dizzy, and my eyes were getting blurry. Thank God I made it home, because I collapsed in the doorway. I had to lie down, drink water and Gatorade and then put my feet up. It was the worse feeling ever! So that’s the reason for my madness. I refuse—and I say---refuse to go out in this disgusting heat. I’m bound to wind up in Maine somewhere laughing at all these hot and sweaty New Yorkers do their thing. I can only imagine how my southern friends out there must feel.
Nights are fine. I can deal with nights. I just can’t deal with ‘having lunch’ out with a friend during this time, or sitting in their hot box apartments drinking alcohol. I can’t even eat when it’s this hot--no less drink alcohol. (Can you imagine—ME not drinking alcohol?) Okay, so I lied.
Yesterday Madelene and I enjoyed a couple of bloody marys and lunch out on our deck. We usually have Sunday and Mondays off to spend together. Today, we are actually going to sit inside conserving absolutely no energy with our air conditioning cranked up until we have ice cycles hanging off our chins. Martinis are definitely in the forecast for today along with a nice, cool crisp salad...or maybe a pizza. We promise to check up on the elderly. That...we can do.
I can’t wait till fall comes around!
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