It is hot. It is damn hot. It is hot preceded by any of a number of colorful and very profane descriptive words.
I should maybe not whine so much about it, since it’s not as hot now as it was earlier this week, but when you get to a certain combination of heat and humidity, it’s just damn hot, whether it’s 85 degrees damn hot or 95 degrees damn hot. And the heat, she makes me whiny.
I should also add that it’s damn hot outside. In my office, it is freezing cold – so cold, in fact, that I have been bringing in long-sleeved sweaters to wear at my desk, and have been running my space heater during the day. In my house, on the first floor, it is also cold, although not quite so cold as my office.
The second floor of my house is outside times a hundred. It’s fucking hot upstairs.
All of these temperature fluctuations are seriously screwing with me. I can’t sleep well because my bedroom is so hot, even with two fans running at all times. I can’t function well outside because between the heat and humidity and out-of-control pollen, my sinuses are in rebellion. And when I go from a freezing cold office to a damn hot outside to a really cold downstairs to a fucking hot upstairs, the blood vessels in my head are rapidly expanding and contracting to the point that I’m having headaches that make me worry that my head may actually explode.
I don’t want to work out, either indoors or outdoors, because it’s so disgustingly hot and because I’m not sleeping well and I don’t feel well. I want to cut off all my hair, because the thought of using a hair dryer is about as appealing as the thought of climbing into an oven and baking at 350 degrees for an hour, and when I don’t dry my hair it looks like an alien laid eggs on my head.
I’m grouchy. Last night I thought I’d sleep downstairs where it was cooler, and Marco bugged the everloving hell out of me until 5 in the morning, when I gave up and went upstairs to get two hours of restless sleep in my sweltering bedroom. I’m tired. My face hurts.