Can You Feel the Heat Tonight?

Hello, my Above Average readers!

Another summer, another incredible rise in temperatures.

It feels like every summer I have to make a post commenting about how hot it is where I live.

But such is the drama of my life.

Holy hell, it is hot outside right now. Baking temperatures. I feel like a piece of bread that has been placed in an oven to crisp. My evening walks, even if the sun is down, feel as hot as a midday stroll. In order to maintain my physical health (of which I’m doing a very poor job), I’ve had to do some exercises indoors. And when I do go for a walk outside, it’s an absolute must to bring a bottle of water with me. (And a pair of clothes that I don’t mind getting drenched in sweat.)

My sister lives in a desert that has an active monsoon season around this time of year. So while it is still warm weather, these summer storms laden with heavy, lightning-filled clouds will roll in, giving the land a much-needed moisture dump.

The heat almost matches the broiling summers in the desert where I live, but petrichor-smelling winds and cool droplets of rain make her desert a lot more enjoyable.

Of course, the summer isn’t without its perks. I get to hear news stations along the United States’ East Coast talking about how it is a “sweltering ninety degrees.” I’d like to see them melt alongside me in 120 degree heat.

Your mouth dries up with every breath, and there is a heaviness to your lungs that you can’t shake. All your body’s moisture migrates to your armpits, your brows, the small of your back, and behind your knees. If it’s really hot, your eyeballs sort of start to ache.

But sometimes I find the heat welcoming, like a really large, overbearing sweater. The air conditioning inside a building can feel harsh, chill, and artificial; summer heat can feel like a natural blanket of warmth that wants to smother you with affection.

I like it and dislike it.

So just as I wait for summer during winter, I am now waiting for winter during summer.

My love for summer is currently sweating itself away like an hourglass full of sand that trickles down.