We're having a heat wave here in Los Angeles. It was a hundred and seven the other day. Now, we're settling in at about hundred and three. I don't do well in the heat, on account of I'm a precious little flower. I tend to wilt at about ninety-five. The heat affects my moods adversely, but if need be, I can snap myself out of it.
I went out into the world yesterday. It was mid-day and the heat was at its apex. It never fails when I'm doing errands on a hot day that I'll see someone wearing a long sleeve shirt, or even more perplexing, a jacket. It strikes me as odd when I see it. It's like seeing someone wearing a wool cap in eighty-degree weather. I don't get that either. Some people have a tolerance for heat I guess, or they're always cold, even when it's a hundred and five.
I worked with a guy once who would wear long-sleeve woolen shirts in the heat. I'd feel my insides burning, it was so hot, and he'd walk up in bright orange, long-sleeve shirt.
"Aren't you hot?" I'd ask
"The heat doesn't bother me."
"You're nuts."
He's dead now. Cancer. Shame. I liked him otherwise.
I went out into the world yesterday. It was mid-day and the heat was at its apex. It never fails when I'm doing errands on a hot day that I'll see someone wearing a long sleeve shirt, or even more perplexing, a jacket. It strikes me as odd when I see it. It's like seeing someone wearing a wool cap in eighty-degree weather. I don't get that either. Some people have a tolerance for heat I guess, or they're always cold, even when it's a hundred and five.
I worked with a guy once who would wear long-sleeve woolen shirts in the heat. I'd feel my insides burning, it was so hot, and he'd walk up in bright orange, long-sleeve shirt.
"Aren't you hot?" I'd ask
"The heat doesn't bother me."
"You're nuts."
He's dead now. Cancer. Shame. I liked him otherwise.
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