At 104 the only people dressed appropriately for work today are the baristas at Sadie's Hot Spot, the sexpresso place up the road on McLoughlin.
It's just too damn hot to work. It's almost too hot to think. I feel like an old dog who just wants to lie in the shade and pant.
We have about two or three of these heat waves a summer. We all know they're going to happen, we all suffer and sweat and hate them every time they do. And yet, we always make a big deal out of them, like somehow they're a nasty surprise we didn't expect. Go figure.
Lisa asks if we don't cool down in the evening, and we usually do. But when these big summer high pressures build up they trap the heat and humidity and smog over the valley. This morning at 5:30 the air had that hot, breathless feeling that means it didn't really cool down overnight. And tomorrow is supposed to be worse.
Since I've posted the cheesecake, I should be fair and expose myself too. Here's how I had to go to work this morning (less the steel-toed boots, which were just too miserable to wear in past the door):And here's how I looked within about 10 seconds after getting back to the shop this afternoon:Now you see why I work in the soils engineering business.
I just don't have the legs to make it as a runway model.
Hard to believe, I know. But it's true.
Jesus wept, it's fucking hot.