Yesterday it was really hot. Like 90 something, I don’t know the exact number, but it was in the 90s. Maybe this will be like the final push of fertility before menopause? Maybe this is summer’s big dance and then we can go back to pleasant 70s with cool nights? I am even wishing for the cold as fuck nights where I can cuddle Kamel for more than 5 seconds without both of us shooing the other away, “you’re too hot” and “what are you molten lava?” Ok dramatics.
But that is what the heat does to you. Everything is the worst. This weekend we tried walking to the store, like we always do, and we got half way there and couldn’t make it.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“But…. what street are we on?… it’s only 4 more blocks.”
“No. Can you imagine? FOUR more blocks?”
“But then we’ll be in the cool store air conditioning.”
“But then we’d have to walk BACK.”
“You’re right, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
This conversation happened with no sarcasm or irony. (No animals were harmed in the making of this conversation.)
And last night, as I wallowed with swollen feet and hands, with no appetite, and a constant longing for the patio I can see but cannot access from my living room window (Torture! That is some REAL TORTURE!), a thunderstorm rolled in.
Yes, here it is, I thought.
Cooling here we come!
It rained for about 2 seconds then stopped. Nooooo! We put the baby to bed, in the dark (what is it WINTER or something? Where is my 10pm sunset?) and watched bolt after bolt after full sky sheet of lightening over Lake Washington. If you follow me on instagram you know that I was able to capture a crappy photo of lightening from my cell phone. Crappy, yes… MYTHICAL? ALSO YES. Kamel did a better job:
A few strong single bolts I’m sure hit something – they flashed and zapped and held a current for quite awhile.
As this was all rolling in, and small bursts of rain kept starting and stopping just to torment me, a runner ran by down our ally. I almost yelled out my window “Go home! You’re not supposed to go running in a lightening storm!” But … why would they listen to me? I figure they are probably a lost cause to all “things our mothers taught us.”
So Kamel and I sat in our living room, in the dark, trying to catch lightening bolts. Trying to suck any and all of the coolness out of the evening (there wasn’t much), watching the big show of August play out.