Yes, it’s an utterly boring acknowledgement.  I’m sitting in my apartment baking, as is most of the city.  I’m reminded of several other heat challenging moments… and I don’t mean the overheating that occurs in the winter here with enthusiastic radiators that turn my apartment into a sauna.

When I was younger, my sister and I had a joke about it being hot.  We were having a ‘slumber party’ up in my room in the attics of my family’s house, and we were in sleeping bags on the floor in front of the air conditioner.  There was, however, a thunderstorm, and my mother insisted we turn off the air conditioner because of the storm. For some reason, that single action started a series of rhymes and sing-song antics that brought us to hysterics.  It started with one of us saying, “I’m hot.  You wanna know why I’m hot?  Because there was this big thunderstorm, and noooooooobody was expecting it…. ”  The patter went on and on, and none of it made any sense after that.  And, it wasn’t particularly funny.  But ever after, if we heard someone say that they were hot, we would resort to our monologue on being hot.  I still remember all of the ‘verses,’ but it’s not doing much to relieve me of the heat tonight.

I also remember one of my last summers in Santa Monica.  It was an incredibly hot Labor Day weekend; it was so hot in the apartment that I took the dogs to the park.  I bought a pack of popsicles, and we lay in the grass as I and the dogs licked cherry popsicles for relief.  

Tonight, it’s just me.  My sister is in Oregon.  One of my dogs is still alive and enjoying retirement with my parents in Pennsylvania.  And, I am seeking relief from the heat in front of the fan in my apartment.  Maybe this will be my memory on the next hot night.

As ever,
K. Quinn