So it’s going to be over forty degrees today (that’s 104 F), and already at 11.30am it’s 36 here in good old Sydney. The past few months have been wet, meaning that a lot of shit grew and died and now there’s a huge fuel load so the bushfire danger is at the ‘Catastrophic’ level.
My house isn’t in amongst bushland, so my major concern is keeping cool and hydrated, worrying that the freeway will be closed (I drove today – bugger hauling ass to the station in heat like this!) and making sure my cat was going to be okay locked up in my house all day (I left the fans on, put bowls of water around and lay a wet towel on the shower floor in case she gets really hot.)
I don’t have aircon at work, but my office is in a little dark dungeon-type room beneath the house, so it’s rather cool indeed. I also work at a home office, and it just so happens that the home in question has a pool, so I’m not long off immersing my pale body in there.
So that’s the story of how I intended to talk about the Stephen King novel I read recently, but instead whined about how hot it is instead while posting narcissistic images of myself in my swimsuit. “Cause it’s too hot for thinking today.
Happy heatwave! Are you sweltering too, or perhaps huddling in the middle of darkest winter (hello, Northern Hemisphere!) and insanely jealous? Let me know below!