It All Comes Back to Me Now
The weather report says it will never be cool again.
Or at least it say that it probably won’t be cool again in the next week or so. In the meantime, summer has finally caught up with my air conditioner and the apartment is beginning to swelter. Morning comes with a feeling like a hangover because of overnight dehydration. This morning I found myself seriously contemplating a gin and tonic at 10 as I sat like a vampire, shades drawn and lights out, in the living room of my apartment.
Two summers ago I lived in a hell-hole near Porter Square, drunk from mid-July through mid-August, since rum and gin were my substitutes for air-conditioning. Temporary relief would arrive in the form of a sunless sky and a sudden downpour, but then the humidity would siphon whatever life was left in the apartment. My neighbors, who refused to put trash in dumpsters because they were rich and paid a guy to collect trash every couple days, left their dainty little trash bags mouldering in the fire escape doorways that led down to the building’s basement. Doing laundry was a descent into hell, and then the roaches arrived.
So this could be way, way worse.
Still, it’s late and I’d like to go to bed, except it’s an inferno in there and MK is already asleep in there, slowly melting into the sheets. And to be honest with you, this is the first time it’s been bearable in this apartment all day. I want to enjoy the respite from this heat.
Would it be crazy to go nocturnal?