Sandy Supposes....

I'm Melting And Summer Hasn't Officially Arrived Yet

         I'm melting! Oh, I am well aware that a certain nasty witch bewailed her fate as she too melted in 'The Wizard of Oz' and as such my pitiful declaration lacks originality. But, it feels like it. I feel like I am melting.

         It's only a week into June and the thermometer is glowing red ready to explode. Already the much anticipated longer, sunnier days are too hot. Officially the temperatures read as thirty degrees Celsius and present as forty degrees Celsius. For the Americans I shall convert this measurement to something relatable. After all, I straddle both the metric and imperial worlds. It's 86 degrees Fahrenheit when only two weeks ago I waffled as to the wearing of flip flops. It's not yet summer or so the calendar states.

         Let me clarify. For some unknown reason the humidity has arrived early and like the heavy, oppressive, damp blanket it is it's smothering. It's stifling.

         Winter weather is more accommodating. Dressing in layers is a given. If one should feel cold add another layer for warmth. Shrug on an extra sweater. Bundle up in fleece. Wrap yourself in all clothing woolen. Pull on heavy socks. A comfortable body temperature is achievable.

         There is nothing as extreme as heat. I shuck my flimsy clothing which consists of a cotton t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts and still I cannot lower my body temp. There is absolutely nothing 'nakeder' than naked. The only layers remaining are those of my skin and with this unrelenting humidity they may slide off. My epidermis is slippery with perspiration, ( did someone famous once claim that ladies do not sweat they perspire?). Perhaps if a couple of inches slough off I'll not only feel lighter, but cooler as well?

         Just breathing induces streams of water to trickle down my hot torso and beads to drip from my nose. Inhaling is apparently a workout. Puddles form around me. If I sit, my slick skin forms some sort of adhesive and glues me to a chair. Rising rips screaming skin cells that for a blessed brief moment feel slightly less heated. The air is languid. Ceiling fans spin furiously as they push and twist air that refuses to soothe. There is no relief.

          I drink so much water I'm considering installing an intra- venous, (iv) line that will deliver fluid straight into my arm. Walking to and from the kitchen sink and/or the fridge is taxing. I expel valuable fluid with this effort. Perhaps I could scrounge up a garden hose, attach it to a faucet and run it directly to where I choose to suffer move as little as possible. If I could see past the distinct possibility of electrocution and thus grievous bodily harm, I might consider using my bathtub as a wading pool while I surf the internet and type on my keyboard. Of course, I would not be exerting any actual physical effort such as wading. I'd be wallowing. I'd hope not to be stewing, or steaming.

         As I write this the nearby freshwater lake shimmers and beckons. Oh, I am tempted to partake of its cooling waters, but... As I mentioned, I am naked. To dress even for a brief foray to the lake would require energy I don't seem to possess. Donning some kind of clothing would be a nod to the sensitivities of my small village neighbours. In this oppressive heat, the sight of my nudity would prove too much. We are all suffering as it is. And yes I would most assuredly be spotted. My get up and go has evaporated and thus I would not be capable of a nude sprint, or a flash run. The only flashes would come from the cellphone cameras capturing my desperate scramble. If I hastened without due care, in my slippery state I could stumble and that would not be a pretty sight.

         So, I sit and simmer. I roast. I imagine basting turkeys. I long for a refreshing breeze and daydream about savouring an unlimited supply of freezing cold ice cream, calorie-free of course.