There is always more to be said
If you believe that I have already covered the topic of the Nashville heat to satisfaction, that I have fulfilled my word quota on the subject, that I couldn’t possibly have more to say about living in the never-ending doldrums of sultry torment… THINK AGAIN.
There is no insulation in the walls of my home, and so the wimpy window air conditioner unit doesn’t make a difference. Last night was the hottest night so far, and my apartment would not cool down, no matter what. I have taken to freezing my Nalgene water bottle, and then sleeping with it in my bed at night. How resourceful – I’m a regular PRAIRIE WOMAN. It doesn’t really help, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something to combat the swelter.
A couple of weeks ago, I put on my fall clothes. I just put them on, and stood in front of the mirror, scarf and all. And then I peeled them off. I needed to remind myself that it won’t always be this way, and better days are coming, and there is hope. Incidentally, these are also the words that crisis counselors are trained to give suicidal individuals, but I digress.
Last night, I told Debbie that if I had known how miserable the summer was going to be, I never would have moved here. Maybe it’s good that I didn’t know, because I’m serious: I would not have come. I solemnly swore to her that this will be my only summer in Nashville, and that I’ll move away before June 1 next year. She told me that that’s what she said 11 years ago. I do not like those words.
I have been in an outrageously bad mood for a full 2 months, ever since my lunchtime walks around Centennial Park were terminated due to the sizzling air and scorching sun. Now, the only walking that I do is down 4 flights of stairs in the parking garage to cross over to my office building. Ever since it has gotten unbearably hot, do you want to know what the stairwell smells like? A carnival. Humid and dirty, stale popcorn and urine, old newspapers and staph infections. That is what I get to walk through on my way to work.
So Seattle, enjoy your day. No, I mean it: SOAK IT UP. Relish your 83 degrees of gorgeous bliss, with the mountains and the ocean and your patio happy hours. Think of me – whose next patio happy hour will likely be in November – in sheer misery, with no ability to think of a blog topic outside of the heat.