It's hot. Not Tucson in August hot, but hot enough to be uncomfortable. I know people have this view that California is always sunshine and surf. But I'm a Northern California native, used to fog and mild temps. This minor heatwave (it's currently 83 in the house) has both me and Cipher (the World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) curled like two lumps of warm dough.
I don't do heat well. Of course I don't do cold well either, but cold is easier. A hot bath, a cozy sweater, some cocoa....there are always ways to warm up. But when you're hot, there's very little you can do. Because we get all of seven hot days a year, we don't run to AC. We have fans...but they're hardly the same. So you lay around in as little clothing as possible, in the direct line of the fan, sipping ice water and wondering if you can possibly sit through some atrocious movie because at least the theatre has air conditioning.
Poor Cipher, in her fur coat, probably has it worse. Last night she was too hot even for her nightly play session with Husband. At the moment, she's looking at me like "hey, you're god, do something." I wish I could, kitty. I'm on the floor, because it's cooler down here and because lying down is easier on my back. She's a few feet away, looking like she wish she could melt. I'm exactly the same....too hot to move, too lethargic to do much of anything but wish it were winter.
What is there about heat that just sucks the energy out of you? From the moment I got up this morning all I've wanted to do is, well, nothing. Water and lots of it. That's it. No appetite. No desire to do any of the hundred things I should do. When I got up to feed the cat a few minutes ago I saw someone jogging past the house. Who are these people? How in the world do they have either the energy or the desire to run when it's so hot out? OK, maybe to earn a milkshake at the end of it, but that's the only reason.
Oh, and this weekend marks the hallmark of culture in our sleepy little town. It's the annual Art & Wine Festival. They block off all of downtown and the place gets invaded by thousands of people wandering around looking at painted driftwood birds, customized mail boxes, and all the tedium of craftiness. Plus the nutritional gift that is Funnel Cakes, frequently bad live entertainment, plus booze. And when it's hot, the booze really flows. It's amazing how much beer people can down at these things. Husband and I rarely go to this thing -- mostly because we really don't like ugly things that pretend to be "art," but sometimes the people watching is amazing.
Have you ever marveled at the sheer unlimited number of hideously ugly t-shirts there are in America?