Monday, July 19, 2010

I'm just hot. I am not telekinetic.

My central air?  Yeah, it's not working so good.  Something inside that large fan type unit in my backyard is making a clunking noise.

It's only going to be around 100 degrees for the next week.  It's probably going to be that hot for the next month and a half.  It's OK though.  I live in Nevada and it's a dry heat.

...a dry, dehydrating, wrinkled prune and too sweet teriyaki jerky type of heat.

What humidity there is in the air has come from my sweat glands.  Breathe that in deep my friends.  I'm currently drenching my easy chair.  My family has already drenched their bedding and the couch.  My house has the piquant undertones of a junior high school gym class.  We've not yet gotten to the folk dancing section of the curriculum but I'm anticipating it! 

You didn't study folk dancing in gym class?  Golly I sure did!  Smack in between the badminton section and the Hersheys track meet stuff.  Boys and girls classes were embarrassingly combined for a month.  Embarrassing because the required gym uniform included Nair short polyester shorts with striped knee socks and we were forced to hold hands with one another.  Then came exposure to the kinetic arts and John Denver.  If you were lucky you got paired with the boy who you didn't have any extreme feelings for, either erotic or disgusted, and the do-si-do didn't cause you to run smack into each other risking the breaking of any facial bones.

If you were especially unlucky you got paired with the male student teacher in the front of the gym to teach everyone in your class the steps.  He didn't think, being fresh out of the frat and all, that he'd get stuck teaching the dancing unit.  He was belligerent as everyone else about it.

Which how my toes got bruised and I know that the man palms were swampy despite the gym being the coldest location in the school.  The only reason I was chosen to pair with Bucky Lacrosse was because I was the tallest girl in the class.  All the other young ladies would have found it unseemly to be on about the same level as his crotch.

Which I'm sure was also glandularly moist.

The man was drippy. 

Have I mentioned that at the same naive teenybopper age I went to the roller skating rink in the summer and didn't know how to turn down the 30 year old man who had asked me to pair skate?  Drippy I tell you, drippy.

See what this heat does to one's head?  I'm baked and I haven't had more than a cold cup of coffee and a look-see though one of our financial statements.

Unfortunately the clunking in my head can't be relieved by a call to an electrician.

4 comments:

  1. Go sit in a neighbour's house that has their AC working. Perhaps, that one that owns the cat that is always camping out at your house.

    It might be a good trade huh,,, you for the cat ;)

    Erf

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  2. We're hovering at 113.7°F with 53% humidity! Nothing is coming out from their hiding places, that includes me!

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  3. When I was young I was a magnet for older men and married men. I wasn't interested in married men on principle, and my own father was quite young and handsome so I was so not attracted to older men.

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  4. My friend's a/c went out last week. She lives in Southern Florida. Turned out there was a dead frog in it....Have you checked? LOL

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