The heat index was somewhere around one hundred ten degrees Farenheit in the city today.
At risk of making myself sound like a totally gross person, I have of late been defining the seasons by my bodily drippings. And I do not mean the shist or the pist, gentle reader. Those take place year round.
I can tell it’s cold outside when my nose starts to run. My nose leaks like a faucet in cold weather, and as soon as I enter a heated room, every little bit of mucous that was waiting for its chance to escape starts to drain out at breakneck speed, and only if I am lucky can I catch it all with a tissue. Were I more inclined to such juvenile behavior, I would probably have an easy time blowing nostril bubbles and the like.
In hot weather, I sweat. God, do I sweat. My sweat output puts my runny nasal drippings to shame. They’d barely fill a thimble, but the sweat would fill buckets. And, similarly, when I walk into an air conditioned room, the sweating does not stop. No, it continues for quite some time. Granted, I rather like the feeling of air conditioned sweat on my skin. However, the fact that it keeps dripping into my eyes is something of a downer.
I walked to work from the train today. If the air were any thicker I would have needed scuba gear to make the journey, or perhaps a pickaxe. I entered my place of employment at around noon. I finally stopped sweating at 2:30 PM, after sitting in the same chair and not moving around all that much in an air condtioned office for nearly two and a half hours.
I took my lunch break at about 6:30 PM, and my heat-fevered mind told me a burrito would really hit the spot. (And it did – the meat was spicy but the guacamole and sour cream really took the edge off.) Needless to say, the sweat returned. This time, the sweating did not cease before I left work at 9 PM. This was due in some part to the fact that I was moving heavy boxes around in an effort to get the place a little more organized before I left. But when I left, I was sweating.
I sat at the train station and waited for the southbound Purple Line train to pass through, and I suddenly realized that the air was crushing me, that it was actually squeezing me like a sponge, which explained the fact that I was leaving puddles wherever I went. And it’s a good thing my hair’s grown out long, or else it wouldn’t have been able to absorb it all and my clothes would have been drenched. On the downside, of course, I had nasty, sweaty hair.
Hours have passed and I still haven’t stopped sweating. I’ve been drinking plenty of water, and I feel fine, but the sweat continues. Come to think of it, I have been pretty worried about things lately…
Plus, it’s like, fucking hot out. You know how it is.