As I write this the heat index has reached 110 degrees. That’s hot! In fact, Satan called and wants his weather back. It’s so hot my books are trying to get out of their jackets, and you could not only fry an egg on the sidewalk, but you could also fry the person frying the egg.
I don’t have a particular fondness for winter once it is here, but when the weather is this hot I begin to wax nostalgic for the bite of a cold, northerly wind. Of course, when December rolls around, the heat of July looks pretty good, proving just how difficult I am to please. But I have discovered a positive side effect of this heat. I’m getting a little more aerobic exercise dashing from the air-conditioned comfort of my house to the air-conditioned comfort of my car. And I swear as I walk across a paved parking lot I can feel the fat on my body melting away. Of course, I can feel the bottoms of my shoes doing the same thing.
It makes me wish I worked in a locker plant or ice house. I don’t really want to work there. I just want to stand around in the sub-zero freezers.
I have tried everything to keep cool. Filling my pockets with ice worked for awhile, but after it melted I had large, conspicuous wet spots to try to explain. One friend was so bold as to bring up the benefits of wearing adult diapers in that situation. It is a pretty strange conversation between two adults with no children when one can casually slip a reference to diapers into it. At that point you are probably less than two minutes away from swapping knock-knock jokes.
I tried carrying frozen foods in my clothes for awhile, but that didn’t work so well. As the veggies thawed they left a whole new category of odd things I had to attempt to explain. One benefit of the frozen food solution was that on a really hot day, if I was outside most of the morning, by noon my lunch was defrosted and simmering in my shorts.
My animals also are looking for creative solutions to this heat. Whenever I open the refrigerator they race to press their faces into the crack of cool that comes rushing out. We all stand there, smiling our species’ unique smiles, our faces glowing with relief. At that moment we are one, my animals and I, like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. The moment is bittersweet though, because we know it must end. The door will eventually have to be closed.
One of the best escapes from this heat is going to an air-conditioned museum, although it may be difficult to focus on the art after frying your brain in 100-degree-plus heat indices on the way in from the parking lot.
This is your brain:
“The Impressionist artists are my favorites.”
This is your brain in the Kansas heat:
“Would you please rub that Slushee all over me?”