I remember it very clearly. It was a long, cold, miserable winter, we had this year. Endless, in fact. It started early and ended late. Lots and lots of snow. More than I’ve ever seen, in the almost thirty years I’ve lived here.
And it was damp. Went right through you. Chilled you to the bone, no matter how many layers of warm clothing you had on. I shivered day after day, week after week, month after month. If I didn’t absolutely, positively have to go out, I did not. I hibernated. Like a bear, in a cave.
It was a misery, all right. And I remember the promise I made to myself, when we were really in the thick of it. When it seemed like there’d be no end to it. When it was still snowing and blowing and freezing in March. When it was supposed to be spring. When I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering.
“If summer ever comes, no matter how hot it gets, I will NOT complain. I will NOT moan. I will NOT groan. I will NOT whine. I will NOT bitch. I will be grateful. I will say “thank you” to the Universe. I will smile constantly. I will just LOVE it. I will be SO happy.”
Tra la la la la …
Well, it’s over. It’s official. I’m complaining.
You know what? It’s bleeping unbearable!!!
Day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day of temperatures in the 30s, celsius. As in 32. As in 34. PLUS humidity. Today, for example, they say with the humidity, it will feel like 42. That, my friends, is 116 flipping degrees fahrenheit! Can’t remember a summer like this here, in Toronto. Ever.
We’re sweltering. It’s like an inferno. When you leave your hopefully air conditioned house and first walk outside, it’s like you’ve been punched. Honestly it feels like you’ve opened an oven door. Actually it’s like somebody else opened the oven door, shoved you in, and then closed the door behind you.
There’s no breeze. No air. The evenings don’t cool off. Midnight might as well be noon. It feels the same.
To be totally honest with you, it’s making me really lethargic. Slow. Devoid of energy. Cats love lounging in the sun. Mine are taking refuge under furniture these days, even though I have air conditioning. Even though I’m keeping my blinds drawn. It’s still stuffy in here. I can’t drink enough water. I’m parched all the time. Dehydrated. Can’t keep myself in ice cubes. And lemons. And limes. I’m only interested in eating cold food. The thought of cooking on a stove gives me a rash.
Well, it’s probably a heat rash. Let’s not go there.
My allergies are driving me nuts. Or maybe it’s just my sinuses. Regardless, I’m always stuffy.
Everyone’s suffering, not just me. Everywhere you look, folks are mopping their brows. Sweating profusely. Everywhere. Eating ice cream and popsicles. Drinking, drinking, drinking. And generally dragging their asses.
Thank God I don’t have to wear pantyhose, is all I can say. Not that I would, let me assure you. But I’m just saying. Can you IMAGINE peeling those off your wet, sticky body at the end of the day??????
NOT ON YOUR LIFE!!
So now picture this. Yesterday I shot a series of videos for a client. Well, I didn’t do the shooting. I was the producer. I wrote the scripts. And then made sure everyone delivered their lines properly. Of course, we had to use lights. Can you imagine how blooming’ hot it was in there? It took the better part of four hours. I was limp by the time we were done.
Now I’m at the hospital. It’s my volunteer day. I’m in the surgical waiting room today. It’s crowded. Remember that. Because body heat counts.
Let me lay it out for you. The main room is the size of the average living room. Two walls have floor to ceiling windows (it’s on the ground floor of the hospital). There is a tiny room, off the main room. It’s so the families of patients having surgery can have some privacy, when they’re talking to the surgeons.
Why am I telling you this? Because the vent for the air conditioning is in the tiny room. The one that only gets used for a few minutes at a time. Maybe once every few hours. The main room, where everyone sits, including me, has NO air conditioning vent.
Are you beginning to understand why I’d love to meet the guy who designed this space? What kind of an idiot is he?
Right. Well, my tale of woe doesn’t end here.
Volunteers wear a uniform, so we can be easily identified. And, presumably, so we also look ‘professional’. Makes perfect sense. Our uniforms are blue lab coats. Long sleeved lab coats. Made out of polyester. Polyester does not breathe.
Exactly. There I am. In a long sleeved, polyester lab coat. No, I CANNOT be nude under the lab coat. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Honestly, I’m kinda surprised you asked. So. I wear the long sleeved polyester lab coat that doesn’t breathe over my own clothes. In a room with no air. For at least eight hours. Sometimes longer.
Trust me when I tell you, I now know just how a smoked brisket feels!