2007-06-27

103/108

It is so hot that I'm pretty sure I died and I'm just kind of walking around as a ghost and not really totally understanding that I'm dead and the heat can't hurt me anymore.
It's surreally hot.

The only way to deal with it is to pretend like it isn't really happening.

It's not like I imagine myself on a tropical island or perched on an ice-cap somewhere because that's a little cliché.

It's more like I pretend that my everyday activities like going to practice at 5:30 pm and baking a frozen pizza at 400 degrees in the oven are actually going to happen.

Practice is going to happen, whether I want it to or not but the pizza?
Not so much.
If I were to actually turn on the oven and let it heat something at 400 degrees for 20 minutes, I'm certain that my eyeballs would melt out of their sockets before the 20 minutes was up and I'm not sure I would want pizza after I'm done sweating and cleaning up eyeball juice from the kitchen floor.

It's debilitating, this heat.
Every year I say this to people who have not lived in Arizona: There is nothing like this kind of heat.
It feels good when you first go outside or when you first get into your car, like you're being warmed by God's very own space heater and like your muscles are finally able to fully relax.
You sort of expand and contract gigantically and it feels really good.
For about 4 minutes.
Then you realize that the sun is really a psychotic thug and has you cornered in a blindingly bright ally and there is nothing you can do to escape the solar beating you're about to receive so you curl up in the fetal position and wait for the sun to realize that you've crawled into a 1.5 square foot of shade and it really can't hurt you effectively as long as you stay there, hiding.

You have to keep your house dark, with all the blinds drawn and all the doors shut because if you don't, you'll easily be coming home to stifling indoor temperatures and you won't be able to breath right.

Plus it's dry, which is normally good. When it's not 109 degrees, dry air is nice for breathing.
At this temperature, it makes your lungs feel like they are swelling up like mash mellows in a microwave and trying to puff up into your throat.
This hurts.

And forget about being graceful.
Your body is holding onto every available molecule of water so if god forbid you don't drink 2 and a half liters of water really early in the morning, you will start to actually swell.
You won't be able to close your fingers properly and your cankles will barely fit into your skates.
Not to mention that you'll become klutzy so you'll fall down on the too-hot cement over and over and you'll either learn to get up faster than you every thought possible or you'll get up and have red splotches all over your legs where the heat lasered into your skin.
Regardless of how fast you get up, you're gonna have those big red splotches.

And being tired all the time - not fun.
I could fall asleep every single day at 5, when I get home.
The drive home in my air conditioned car that has tinted windows is too much.
I can't walk down to check the mail until the sun has been down, and I mean really down, for a good hour or so.
I think it would be manageable if I could sleep all day and work at night.

Instead, I go to work in an over-air-conditioned office and then choke into the evening with a system of fans and popsicles.

And I made this pact, right?
To go to practice?
Which was stupid.
But Sunday, when it was only 103, it made sense.
103 is doable.
108 is not.
Sure, it wounds like 5 little degree should not be a big deal - dry heat/humidity/over 100 is over 100....
.
.
.
.
But that's not how it is at all.
Each degree over 103 is an inch closer to melting eyeballs and untimely demise.

Maybe the heat will break.
Probably, it will not.
Either way, I am seriously thinking about doing something drastic with my location.

arizonasarah at 10:35 a.m.

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