Whew!

Oh, my poor, poor body. There is a shock coming.  I'm not sure how to prepare it for what's ahead.

After months and MONTHS of below average temperatures, sweat-suit attire and thermals I'm now supposed to adjust to several days of ninety degree temperatures. I already feel myself shriveling.

Come on Mother Nature, you could at least have given me a week of mid-eighty temperatures before jumping to the mid-nineties. Really, seriously....just like that (Picture me snapping my fingers) am I going to have to drag out my fans, find my short-shorts and tank tops, and heaven only knows where my freezer thingy is that I soak in water so it puffs up, and I throw around the back of my neck to cool off?  Come on...you know I'm not prepared.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining we are actually going to have some hot weather, after eleven months of misery.  And, I've never been a complainer about the heat. Although I will confess around the third day of mid ninety temperatures I do start to feel physically ill. I'm not sure why. Up till the time I turned, oh, around 65, I could handle the heat just fine...even work outside...easily.

Then, something happened to my metabolism, I guess maybe this is one of those 'things they never tell you', that once you hit seventy your body, well, maybe your blood, changes in consistency so that adjusting to extremes in temperatures is overwhelming to a person's entire body function. Seriously, by the third day that it's pushing 100 degrees, I'm like Jell-O that's been out in the sun since noon, and it's now 6 PM. I'm sticky, melted and I feel nausea coming on. I want to run around naked.

Oh, and that business of closing up your house to retain a certain level of coolness. Seriously, do you do that? I guess my house is so poorly made because...well... here's my routine.

Bedtime: I close up the house, because the news people have advised me if I don't somebody will enter through an open window and bludgeoned me to death.

Early Morning: I rise early (very, very early) and throw open every window and door so the overnight indoor heat dissipates.

Mid-morning: I can feel the heat starting coming in. I go around the house, close windows, doors and drapes.

Rest of day: I continually check the indoor temperature; I can see it slowly, slowly rising. My house is beginning to smell...oddly. The fans are working their little fannies off, and have stirred up dust that has been dormant since last year and the last time the fans were used. Yuck...it's getting really, really gross.

6PM. I check the thermometers again...Inside it is 95; outside it is 97...two degrees different. I'm so nauseated, I want to die. I go around the house and open it up again. Surely the outdoor temperature will begin to recede, and the house will start to cool off.

Bedtime: The temperature in the house has fallen by a few degrees. The fans have been working full blast for over how many days it has been over ninety degrees. Oh, no...it is time to close up the house. I do not want to be bludgeoned.

And   the   cycle   starts   over   again.

I don't want to eat. I have fitful sleep. I want to be outside; we have so few of these perfect blue skies, still air summer days. I'm conflicted. I think about November's gloom and I'm thankful it is summer. I'm thankful for the ninety degrees days.

Still, really, Mother Nature, would it have been so difficult for you to 'ring me up' a week or so ago and say, "Hey, Sandra, it's gonna be a hot, riding with the windows open, sticking your arm out, ride. Buckle up!"