Today it was hot, but I wasn't complaining. I plugged the fan in wherever I went, it followed me around like a puppy on a leash. We ate pancakes for breakfast, it was 28 degrees. Hot but delicious. The sun settled on the windows, lighting the floor like little fires, not to be walked in. I refused to close the curtains, I cringe in unnatural darkness. The only time butter has ever been at room temperature and coconut oil was liquid in the jar, was today.
The plants were fertilized with fish fertilizer, I got some on my feet. My feet stunk like fish. I washed them carefully. I snacked on banana chips and checked-in on instagram while my feet soaked. Srcub scrub, luckily the bathroom is cool. I drove to the store, there was sweat on my upper-lip. I didn't complain. I took pictures of the garden in the 12pm sun. It was 33 degrees, it felt like 40 with the humidity. I didn't complain, I enjoyed it in fact. It'll be gone so soon, try to make me sweat, I dared.
The neighbors left on vacation with the windows rolled up on their truck, darn their air conditioning, I thought. If only my commute didn't take me on the highway where I had two options in the 33 degrees, one: roll windows up and die of heat exaustion, two: leave windows down and blast eardrums out with noise from air and trucks. Option two always wins. It was only when beads of sweat started dripping from my forearms I cursed the heat a little. Only a little.
Work was insane. Why no air conditioning for the old people? Especially the ones with dementia. I took solace knowing tomorrow was the start of my weekend.