Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

I am so over this @#$%ing heat

(warning: cussing ahead)

Anyone remember the old Twilight Zone episode called “Land of the Midnight Sun”? The one where the Earth is orbiting closer to the sun, and it’s so hot everywhere that thermometers are bursting and paintings are melting, and people are either dying or going insane? That’s what I think we’re in right now. Either that, or Hell. Enough already with day after fucking day of triple-digit heat! I’m so sick of it, I could scream. In fact, I think I will, in a bloggy sense.

Could be worse, I know. At least my building’s antiquated A/C system hasn’t croaked, as it usually does during a heat wave. But it can’t keep up with heat like this, so my apartment has been averaging about 76-80 degrees. I have every fan I own running and I’ve been spritzing myself with water for the evaporative cooling. Dinner tonight was a pint of frozen yogurt.

At least I got some respite at John’s house this weekend. His central air system is like A/C on steroids; it’s powerful enough to deal with triple digits. He had to work late on Friday evening, and when he came home, he said his place was nearly 100 degrees, but within two hours after putting on the A/C, it was back down below 80 already. (I didn’t go there until Saturday morning.) Of course, the utility companies are telling us to set our A/C at 78 degrees, but even my beloved diehard environmentalist said, “Fuck that” and cranked it down to 68. So it was quite comfortable there. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay in there all weekend.

Yesterday, we went to the nursing home where his mother is staying until she’s well enough to go home (she got out of Kaiser Hospital last week). Before we went, we’d seen one of John’s sisters, who said she’d already been to visit. She made a face, saying the place was depressing, and they automatically put all the patients in wheelchairs and diapers whether they need them or not. Lovely.

The first thing I noticed when we walked into the place was the pervasive stink of pee. The people who worked there were nice, but the place itself was dreadful. John’s mom was pretty much out of it and it was impossible to have a conversation with her, but we still stayed for over an hour. From one of the nearby rooms was the sound of a patient howling and keening, and my nerves nearly snapped. We were just about to leave when John’s brother, sister-in-law and nephew arrived. I groaned inwardly. Shit. We almost got out, but now we’re stuck. Sure enough, we stayed another 15 minutes while John and his bro/SIL caught each other up. Deep breaths, Erica, we’re almost out. I’d just gone through this with my own mother and it was just too damn much. At least the nursing home she’d been in didn’t smell bad.

When we left, my car nearly killed us both — it was 110 in there, according to my car’s temp register. It was like driving inside a blast furnace until it finally started to cool down a little bit. At least it’s a newer car. Some of you might remember older-model cars, the ones that overheated on days like this when you ran the air conditioner.

Poor John. The heat did a number on him, too. Even long after we got back into his lovely icebox of a house, he was sweating. It’s like he was overheating from the inside out.

Today was better. Not cooler, you understand, but at least we didn’t have to do anything dreadful. We went to brunch, and in the parking lot, we saw two other couples walking ahead of us. Knowing that the restaurant was probably already packed with the lunch crowd and not wanting those two couples to get there ahead of us, I actually broke into a sprint and ran across the lot, down the sidewalk and inside. Hey, it got us seated sooner. So what if it damn near killed me.

So now, I’m home, and it’s still hot; it’s 10 PM and a brisk 83 degrees. Eric Idle is on TV as I write, at the closing ceremonies, singing about looking on the bright side of life. Shut up, Eric. You’re in London right now. Come here and deal with this damned heat and see if you still look on the fucking bright side.

Why yes, I’m cranky. Thanks for noticing.

Tomorrow Mr. D is coming over. I look forward to seeing him again, but I don’t know how either of us will survive playing in this heat. I was tempted to tell him to forget about the toy bag and just bring his bathing suit, but hopefully it will be OK. Perhaps I’ll spritz him with my water bottle. 🙂 That would be a kindness, wouldn’t it??

Tuesday I’m having lunch with Alex; she’s been in town for the past couple of weeks and this will be her last day here. Can’t wait to see her again! Wednesday I get my first batch of work from the new client, and Thursday I am seeing my cousin again. So it’s going to be a busy week. But if this heat doesn’t break, I may end up in the loony bin. Which I wouldn’t mind, if it were air-conditioned.

Excuse me for now — I’m going to go pour ice water on my sheets.

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13 thoughts on “I am so over this @#$%ing heat

  1. Erica,Yes. I remember that episode very well. We have not had the high temps in the NE, but the humidity has been awful.I hope the heat wave ends soon. Hug,joey

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  2. Sorry to hear that you had such a tough time, Erica! 😦 I cross my fingers that you will have a great time on Monday, despite of the heat! 🙂

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  3. I hate heat. I hate getting sweaty. Luckily I live in London. Downside of it is, my hubby and A are going to Turkey at the end of the August and I'm staying home with an autistic angel.I probably sweat from the stress:-)

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  4. Maybe when Mr D comes over you could alternate between spanking and rubbing ice cubes on your bottom. Anything to beat the heat.

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  5. Joey — according to the weathercaster, it will drop a whopping 3 to 4 degrees for a couple of days this week, then shoot right back up. (sob)Kaelah — thanks; I sure hope so! :-)Margita — that is indeed a 24/7 job. I'm glad you don't have to contend with triple-digit heat on top of it!Anonymous — my bottom, my neck, my back, my stomach…

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  6. Remember that Denis Leary song "Everything is terrible, and we're all going to die"? He thought it would be cancer. Who knew it would be heat? Fight, fight, rage against the dying of the light. Ice cubes, frozen yogurt, get your beautiful butt back in that cold shower. And move over! You're not hogging the cold water 🙂

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  7. Emen — I WISH the damn (sun)light would die! lol And yes, I'm headed for a cool shower now, after my brave visit to the gym.

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  8. Hi Erica — I hope the temp goe's down very low soon for you, UGH i can't stand the heat either, It make's me feel sick and i sweat way too much.I am glad you ran really fast and got the table before that other couple got it :-)GO ERICA GO, RUN ERICA RUN,HEHEHE LOL.The nursing home where my dad's 2 uncle's were smelled the same way as the place you went YUCK. Have as much fun as you can with Mr D tonight :-)Much Love and hug's from your naughty girl Jade

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  9. Jade — there really is no excuse for that smell. Like I said, my mother's nursing home had no odors whatsoever. Yeah, I looked like a crazy woman, running in that heat, but I beat two other couples! 😀

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  10. Hey if you decide to pay a visit to the looney bin if for no other reason that to capitalize on their central ac remember to take a can of Febreze with you…just in case! 🙂

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  11. Kelly — (snicker) oh, yes indeed.

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  12. Heat makes me very cranky as well. I sure hope that the hotel for SL has superb A/C, because Vegas can be hell, dry heat or not. A friend of mine who is from PA went to Vegas for the first time years ago. Someone told him, "Well, it's 110, but it's a dry heat." He went outside and nearly passed out from heat stroke and said "One hundred and ten is one hundred and fucking ten."

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  13. Lea — yeah, I've never gotten that "dry heat" qualifier. OK, humidity is miserable. But heat is heat. It's hot.And I confess, the suite parties at SL get a wee bit warm with all the bodies. But you're having so much fun, you don't care. 🙂

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