Good glory be, how did people live here in this state without air conditioning?
.........Or maybe I'm just a big, fat weenie.
Unfortunatley, I work in an almost century-old building that has no air conditioning. It feels like every time I step into the hallway, I inhale a thick cloud of smog. Granted, my office has an air unit but it does little short of diddly squat in the face of 102 degree heat.
It's no surprise, then, that I feel like my body is going to explode as I sit here typing away. Seriously. It's not like I'm sweating profusely. My middle section is simply overheating like a desktop PC.
I wish my body had a little internal fan that would whirl frantically the hotter I get.
So I munch on ice. And drink ice water. But I'm this close to importing blocks of ice and building an igloo.
And since I can't do that, I think cool. Anything to keep my mind off of the heat.
I tried playing fun, upbeat songs that would refresh my sluggish brain while I worked.
And I don't care what you say, this did the trick:
....and now I have decided that I will learn how to dance like Chris Brown. Watch out.
My good friend Ted has (regrettably) moved away to do Border Patrol in Arizona and he, in so many words, told me I was being a weenie about the heat.
"When your job requires you to lift heavy things while being screamed at while running around in the desert, then I'll have pity on you," he said.
Touché, Ted. Touché.
HOWEVER. It's still nasty out and I feel like my brain is going to melt out of my ears.
Estoy una weenie.