Market Flower, June 2013 The high was 94° today. If I sweep the floor, I sweat. If I touch my car door handle, my hand burns. I ate dinner with friends last night in the tepid whir of a poorly running air conditioner, sweat dripping down my cheek, dabbing at it with a napkin whenever the host went into the kitchen for the next course.
The hot weather will come and go into November. I have been in Los Angeles many years and seen the climate change, the summer heat lasting well beyond September. Climate change deniers don’t know what they’re talking about. They should be made to walk across the supermarket blacktop, load up groceries in the trunk and get into a car that has sat in the lot, windows closed, for an hour. Having AC in the car means you get home before the air cools down.
Yes, I am complaining. Snow to shovel versus desert heat. Pick your poison. I’m using up old teabags, downing pitcher after pitcher of iced tea. This summer it’s been especially refreshing. I’ve gone without a watch, wedding ring or bracelet because it’s just too damn hot. Nylons?!! Don’t make me laugh.
It’s almost 7pm. The weather site says it’s 83°. Sundown in a half hour, my husband calls out. Let’s take the dog for a walk now. I check the fridge for English Breakfast to revive me on my return before I say ‘yes’.
The hot weather will come and go into November. I have been in Los Angeles many years and seen the climate change, the summer heat lasting well beyond September. Climate change deniers don’t know what they’re talking about. They should be made to walk across the supermarket blacktop, load up groceries in the trunk and get into a car that has sat in the lot, windows closed, for an hour. Having AC in the car means you get home before the air cools down.
Yes, I am complaining. Snow to shovel versus desert heat. Pick your poison. I’m using up old teabags, downing pitcher after pitcher of iced tea. This summer it’s been especially refreshing. I’ve gone without a watch, wedding ring or bracelet because it’s just too damn hot. Nylons?!! Don’t make me laugh.
It’s almost 7pm. The weather site says it’s 83°. Sundown in a half hour, my husband calls out. Let’s take the dog for a walk now. I check the fridge for English Breakfast to revive me on my return before I say ‘yes’.
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