According to some male model in a suit pointing at a green screen map of the Greater Tri-State Area - NY/NJ/CT - this is the hottest July on record.
I hate heat.
I open windows during the winter. I rarely wear a coat and usually re-gift scarves, hats and gloves. I have always felt I had my inner rage to keep me warm.
It's been cooler so far this week. It sits just at 90 for the most part. Then along comes a thunderous storm - the dark clouds gather and the lighting strikes draw near, hitting closer and closer. The air takes on that electric stillness that fascinates me, interrupted only by rumbles of thunder. "God is bowling and the angels are holding up flashlights" my Nana used to tell me when storms frightened me.
Storms don't frighten me anymore. A good one delights me. The storms we've been having just flat out piss me off. They're like overly macho men - all bravado.
And when they're done you're left disappointed and with a slightly musky smell around you. The air is still oppressive and the humidity is worse.
I've been trying to catch up with everyone. I lack focus and energy. My sinuses are messed up and the bug I've been hosting appears to really, really love me. It's found a good home.
The health center I finally found after a 6 month search had their funding cut and, in turn, I have been cut from their client list. They have given me a list of others and more forms to fill out.
Don't get me started on forms.
If I could find a Social Security office with decent air conditioning I might have the energy to go postal in it.
So that's me for now. Kind of crappy and a wee bit depressed.
But hey, I'm hot.