Woe is me

It usually happens only once in the spring for a few days, and once in the fall for a week or so, and I guess this is one of those times. It's HOT in the city. Like really hot. Not at all like my wimpy whiny poor me it's 75 degrees hot. I'm talking record-breaking 89 degrees hot.

Which is only a big deal because I don't have air conditioning and my top-floor apartment collects all the heat, and since it only gets this hot when the sea breeze fails so no amount of wide window opening can get the air moving through it.

And doesn't it figure that after one of the maybe 5 nights a year that are so swelteringly lay-on-top-of-the sheets toss-and-turn-in-sweaty-discomfort-half-sleep hot, with my window wide open all night long, doesn't it just figure that at 6am they decide to start construction next door and 3 flatbed semis pull up and idle right below my bedroom belching diesel exhaust and deafening rhythmic engine chug, punctuated by the shouts of constructions workers and the piercing reverse warning beep of the forklift unloading sheetrock? Like they couldn't have done that on one of the 360 other mornings a year that my window is tightly shut against the chill and noise?

And with that, let's all enjoy this photo I took yesterday while hiking to the beach, which is about the best way I can think of to escape the full force of the blast furnace. So really, I'm not complaining too much, because seriously, I live within walking distance of this.