Remember the other day when I said it was hot?
It’s hotter now.
Temperatures for Corvallis have reached a ludicrous high. Today it was one hundred and three degrees. Tomorrow it is supposed to reach one hundred and eight degrees. As a rain-bred Oregon duckgirl this is utterly intolerable. Remember when I was complaining about my lack of sweat beading? At this point, I am certainly sweating. I am sweating in all the normal places, plus odd places that should not sweat. The bottoms of my feet are sweating. My fuzzy, hobbity knuckles are sweating. My knee caps are sweating and my hair is sweating and even my sweat is sweating, forming some sort of infinite sweat vortex that confounds science and leaves me drowning in a sea of my own perspiration.
It’s all very classy, I assure you.
I would write more, but my brain has melted into a puddle of goop that is slowly leaking out of my ears and melting onto the couch’s upholstery. In an effort to retain what knowledge I have left (I’ve lost most of the South American countries that I knew), I’m going to go lie in bed and point the fan directly at my skull.
It is my only defense.