Yesterday was just plain awful. The heat crested at 115F–all official according to the weather app, and I think it might have been a little warmer–and all we could do was huddle in the house with the AC and every fan on. Even with that it was uncomfortable and lethargic. I went out several times to fill the birdbath and put some ice water in pans for the backyard fauna, and each time I felt worse after retreating into our air-conditioned haven.
But the birdbath and other water pans were fully utilized by pretty much every backyard denizen, from the crows who used it to bathe and wash ripe cherries to the squirrels who barely even bothered to scamper away when I approached. I was wearing shoes and not yelling, so I guess they figured it was safe enough–and it was too goddamn hot to chase them. I think they understood that much.
It irks me to have lost a whole day’s worth of work, but such is life when enduring climate emergency and pandemic. Not to mention ongoing attempted fascist coup–they’re attempting to do it legally now, repeating history as violent authoritarians always do. *sigh*
We finally watched the marine push come through on the weather app, temperatures dropping swiftly as regular weather reasserted itself. Of course we still kept the house closed and the AC on all night, since it would still be almost-80F at midnight; our power bill will not thank us this month but honestly, nobody in the house cares.
I’m a little shaky today. Ever since that one incident of heatstroke in San Diego (I was there for Comic-Con one year) I’ve been peculiarly sensitive to hot weather. After I finished watering yesterday evening (my poor seedlings, and someone’s been grubbing them up too, probably a squirrel, GODDAMMIT) I was nauseous and apparently looked like death warmed over, so I took a cool shower and went to bed.
Both the kids are still sacked out, recovering. The Princess worked through the worst of the heat, and though her workplace has plenty of AC it was still not very comfortable. The Prince, on his summer of freedom after high school (he’s not allowed to work or do ANYTHING until September except goof off) holed up in his dark room and slept through most of the worst. Febrile hibernation, I call it, and wish I’d’ve been able to do the same.
We’re back to “normal” weather, albeit a bit warmer than usual. 90F+ days used to be exceedingly rare. Now, well…thanks, corporate-fueled climate change. That’s just great, thank you.
Sigh. Today is for lots of ice water, a very short run–because I will bloody well strangle something if I don’t get at least a few kilometers in–and whatever work I can manage. There’s administrivia to perform, and wordcount on the serial (not to mention two romances) to get sorted. That one combat scene in Hell’s Acre has been hanging fire for a while now, and needs to be finished.
It’s like jumping rope on the playground–you watch, gauging the rhythm, before you hop in. Hopefully I won’t trip over my own rope and fall flat on my face.
But, you know…given how this week’s started, I can’t rule it out. The coffee’s soaking in, so it’s time to go.
Stay cool, my beloveds. In every way.