It's been hot in Seattle lately. High eighties, every day.
Hold your horses, Phoenix and Dubai, I know that sounds like a crisp autumn day to you all who live in the great "we film post-apocalyptic movies here" hellscapes of the world.
But keep in mind that we have no air conditioning.
We, like everyone fucking else in Seattle, have fans. We have a fleet of fucking fans. And come July, those fans do no more than push hot air from one 83-degree-room to the next in our sweatboxy little houses. I feel like the tennis ball inside the mouth of a panting dog.
The heat... it makes me crazy. Not Gilmore girls crazy. HBO documentary crazy.
Here's a list of 10 things I absolutely will not consider when my house is 83 degrees.
I don't care if I leave a trail of cracking heel skin flakes on the sidewalk. There will be no socks. OR SHOES.
I just threw up in my mouth a little.
3. Taking my hair out of a ponytail
I see these people with their hair down and it makes me wonder if they have some kind of nerve damage that prevents them from feeling temperatures on their necks and shoulders. Because if I had my hair down in a house that was 84 degrees, I'm pretty sure I'd have to get in an ice bath to keep myself from jumping out the window just to get the cool breeze on the way to sweet oblivion.
I just threw up in my mouth a little and it went up my nose.
5. Turning on the oven
Dinner tonight will be ICE SALAD. You'll eat it and you'll LIKE IT.
This is sad because everything I wear is foul and smelly by the end of the day. I pit out my tanks just standing in the kitchen peeling an orange. So I'm running out of clothes. But you know what? Old Navy has A/C and $4 tank tops.
7. Red wine
Yeah, how about a hot towel wrap and a dip in the jacuzzi to go with that room-temp cab franc? And then we can all strip off our clothes and fight to the death while Apocalypse Now plays in the background.
Someone is sleeping on the couch and I think that someone is me because there is a better cross-breeze in the living room and also zero chance of waking up with third-degree burns from accidentally brushing against the convection oven that is my husband's torso in the middle of the night.
9. Holding my tongue when someone is an asshat on the internet
Watch your fucking mouth, judgy mom who I have never met but who is talking shit on Facebook. My filter is OFF and I'm looking to cut somebody with my pen which is mightier than the sword ALSO YOU USED THERE WHEN YOU MEANT THEIR and I snapped the neck of a baby dove when I read it and you should know that shit's on you LEARN HOW TO SPELL.
I'd rather wear a wool straightjacket. Or a turtleneck made out repurposed airplane seat fabric.
And if this heat keeps up, I think that might be one wish that comes true. The straightjacket part. Not the other one. Please... please not the other one...