Feeling Hot Hot Hot

Something has gone awry. We've already had one of our biannual hot spells in the City, and the next one isn't scheduled until October. Is this what we have to look forward to?

So I'm still sick enough that I feel I'm floating about 6 inches outside my body about half the time what with the congestion and fuzzy brain medicine head. All fine and well if it's cold and grey and miserable outside and I can curl up on the couch with some chick flicks. But instead of the normal cool July temps, San Francisco has turned into a blistering parking lot, and I'm the dog left in the car. All I can do is lay around and moan.

It's 97 degrees out according to weatherunderground, which means it's probably well over 100 inside my apartment, where all the heat from the building collects on the top floor while the blazing sun radiates right through the uninsulated roof and walls and windows. Our only choice is to open every window and hope that some sort of cross wind blows through. Though on a day like today there's no hint of a breeze off the bay. It's so hot, even the air can't move.

Yes, it could be worse. There are places inland that have been over 110 now for days in a row. But come on. This is why I live here. It's not supposed to do this. Seriously, we've shattered our previous record by 8 degrees! That's 26 degrees above normal!

It's too hot to type. It's too hot to think. I'm going to go back to moaning for a while.