It’s HOT. It’s hot everywhere. My apartment, my street, the subway, all of NYC. Hell, literally half of the United States is currently sweltering in a heat index of 105 degrees. That’s halfway to BOILING, people!
Normally, I love when it’s warm out. I wouldn’t say summer is my favorite season, but winter is sure as hell my least. I hate being cold, so clearly being warm is a welcome alternative. What I don’t like is being stuck in a concrete metropolis melting under an oppressive nighttime low of 90 degrees with a suffocating 65% humidity.
What I don’t like even more than that, though, is all the people around me. When it’s 103 degrees above ground, you can bet that in the subway – which is underground – will be about 150 degrees. There is no air down there. There are a lot of people down there. You know what that means?
When you’re sweaty, don’t touch me. Don’t let your arm brush against mine, because you know what happens? It slimes against mine. Your sweat is transferred to my skin and that is nauseating to me. (As it should be to you, unless we’re boning, in which case, we’ll both be sweating like pigs but we most certainly will not be on the subway!)
When I get hot, I get irritable. I get lethargic. I get sweaty and uncomfortable. I feel unpretty and unclean and slimy and just – EW.
That’s all. I can’t wait for this heat wave to be over so my brain goes back to normal functionality.