I AM DONE WITH SUMMER, or: So it's been hot here.

[juushika]

Nights are a balance, right now, between trying to get plenty of rest while it's still cold enough to sleep, and wanting to be awake to perhaps enjoy a few moments while it's cold enough to live. In other words: I am beyond ready for summer to be over, so ready that I have been dreading the days. We're midway through almost a week of 85 to 90 degree weather. I don't care how moderate that is my your standards: I am from the Pacific Northwest, and I am not made for this. I hate people that bitch about how wet/cold/overcast it is in one time of the year, and how sunny/hot/fucking miserable it is in another, but so help me I am not one of those people—I never complain about the rainy season or want it to be any shorter, and there is no hypocrisy when I say I am finished, I am done. There are hours these days—sometimes entire days—where the ambient temperature and humidity is just so that it feels like my body never ends, like I extend to the size of the house, like the air is my flesh and I'm suffocating myself. It's like the hell version of a float tank.

We're surviving thanks only to foods that can be cooked in half an hour or less, the blessed ice cube tray, and media sufficiently distracting that we may for a while to pretend to be anywhere but here.

Even the cats get hot. August goes and lies down on the linoleum and refuses to move.

But right now, August is nestling herself in my lap, and there is a cool breeze and the start of sunrise, and I'm actually comfortable and—despite the rant—quite happy, so I'm going to go and enjoy the moment.