Hot.
This has been a summer of extremes and not so many average days. Back in July a decent cause of my sleepless nights was the fact that people were sleeping and partying in the park across the street from where I was living. It got to a point where I was hoping for rainy and/or cool weather at night.
During the hottest part of the hot spell, my new office suffered from a broken cooling system. The office doesn’t have air conditioning, but it has something called “cooling ceilings”—what that is, exactly, I don’t know, but it was broken and although my office was boiling hot, it wasn’t the hottest office I encountered: I walked past an office with an open door and felt the heat coming into the hallway. Arizona or the Sahara must have been inside.
Free water to cool the feet!
Then, for about two weeks, as I vaguely recall, the weather was just right—including an almost perfectly perfect moving day: It wasn’t too hot and it wasn’t raining.
The last week was strange. I know that for a couple of days it was cool enough that I regretted wearing short-sleeved shirts. It was also rather wet out—sort of like living in Indiana, but without the heat. It finally peaked (perhaps the wrong word), Friday morning when I wore a hoodie to the office.
However by the end of the afternoon, when I headed home, I decided to roll it up and shove it in my bag because it was too hot to wear it.
The weekend has been teetering on being too hot. Hot enough that I decided to wash my heavy kitchen rug, knowing full well it would dry in less than 24 hours. It did, unlike a load of laundry earlier this week that took at least a day and a half to dry.
I took advantage of the fine weather today to head to a nearby park where I rolled out my towel, pulled out a book, and made hay while the sun shined.
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