Triple Digit Heat and I Do Not Enjoy Each Other’s Company

I lived in the desert you know. I know heat. Three hours or so away from Death Valley, you know, one of the hottest places in the world. I used to take nice long walks in it as a little Bear Cub. My brother, sister, and I would spend twelve hours a day in it in the summer and while we would be this awkward shade of crimson when we came into the house and have to be coated with various ointments, we went right back out the next day because that is simply what you did.

One other thing before we leave the temperatures of the Antelope Valley. An important thing actually. There is no humidity in the desert, it’s kind of why they’re called deserts. So while I routinely was out in 100° temperatures, there was nary a droplet of water in the sky. It was a beautiful cerulean blue that made every other shade of blue jealous at all the, wait for it, blue balls. rimshot? All joking aside, it was beyond wonderful there, beautiful to the point of bringing your tears to the eyes.

I moved back here and I learned what it was like to have water try to run away from your body, only to be stymied by the Universe itself and just sit on you and cry. Yes, sweat crying, go with the metaphor and play along with me here, my self-respect is at stake for Goddess’s sake. I suppose living next to one of the largest fresh-water lakes on the planet doesn’t help at all, but I was not precisely ever told I was the sharpest of the tools available in the drawer.

If it is 75 here, I know I am fucked. he pressure in my head builds to where I sometimes feel like I am having a stroke, my migraines flair uncontrollably and I am completely useless. Today it is supposed to be, without the heat index, and as aside that is a stupid name for a hotness death scale, in the mid-nineties. If I do try and push through the pain, I most often find myself mysteriously waking up from a nap I did not intend to take in a room I may or may not remember having been in at the time.

I went to bed at half-past two yesterday. In the afternoon. On a Saturday. (Ignore the during quarantine part for the sake of dramatic effect). All I could do is strip down to the skin (control yourselves people, I’m not a piece of meat) and lay in the air conditioner and breathe as slowly as I could without really moving at all. I didn’t hand lunch, I didn’t have dinner, I didn’t hydrate the way I should have. I simply needed to not for a while. Just be there and no be expected to do anything other than maintain the baseline living conditions I needed to take care of. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see, I ejected material from my stomach like a bullet train, nosebleeds and, ironically, insomnia because of the intensity of the owwie involved.

Now I have taken care to medicate, hydrate, eat and do all the things I can to mitigate this from happening again today, however, I am not as naive as I used to be and I fully expect today to suck.

So yeah, you needed to know all of that because, well, I needed to write more and that is the first thing that came to mind. Sorry that I am not in the least bit sorry?

Hydrate. Seek shade when you can. Loose-fitting clothes. Y’all know the drill.


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