Now bring me a mint julep and fan me, please.
Sweet melty Jesus on a popsicle stick, it is hot.
I know, I know, I'm an Alabama girl at heart, the heat shouldn't bother me, but for fucks sake. The South has air conditioning and ceiling fans, because unlike these uncultured yankees*, we understand air-flow and the heat tolerance levels of the human body. Right now, if I want my apartment to be anything less than an oven, I have to wait for it to dip below eighty outside, open all my windows, and turn on the vent over my stove because it is the only means of circulating air.
It'll cool down in the next few days, thank Coyote, and by then my tattoo should be healed enough to allow me to go swimming in the shady areas of the pool here, which is a blessing. In the meantime, I'll continue my cold showers and nigh-pornographic longing for central air.
* My apologies to everyone born north of the Mason-Dixon line or west of Texas. It's not your fault. You don't know any better.
I know, I know, I'm an Alabama girl at heart, the heat shouldn't bother me, but for fucks sake. The South has air conditioning and ceiling fans, because unlike these uncultured yankees*, we understand air-flow and the heat tolerance levels of the human body. Right now, if I want my apartment to be anything less than an oven, I have to wait for it to dip below eighty outside, open all my windows, and turn on the vent over my stove because it is the only means of circulating air.
It'll cool down in the next few days, thank Coyote, and by then my tattoo should be healed enough to allow me to go swimming in the shady areas of the pool here, which is a blessing. In the meantime, I'll continue my cold showers and nigh-pornographic longing for central air.
* My apologies to everyone born north of the Mason-Dixon line or west of Texas. It's not your fault. You don't know any better.