Standing the heat
Hot. Sweat. Sticky.
Headache. Blurry. Crowded. Anxious.
Pain. Impatient. Slow.
Humidity. Frustrated. Embarrassed.
Gross. Smell. Fire. Burning. Wreak.
Anger. Hurt.
Sick.
Summer…in…New…York…City…
Fuck.
///
Normally, I hate the heat. I’m the first person to complain, to refuse to go outside, to hate the sun, to refuse to take the subway anywhere. Summer in New York City sucks.
But this year, I’m taking a different approach. I bought shorts. Several pairs of shorts. I brought out the tank tops from under my bed. I even wore one. Outside of the apartment.
I don’t have an air conditioner. I couldn’t find one that fit in my tiny ass windows. I hate my windows. I bought an oscillating fan instead. It was on sale at Target. That’s my head nod to Mother Nature this year.
And fine, it hasn’t gotten that hot yet this year. It’s only June, after all. Check in with me in August. I might be singing a different song.
But I hope that isn’t the case. I’m on a mission. This summer, I’m going to love living in New York City. I’m going to wear shorts. With tank tops. Outside of the apartment.
I bought a pair of sunglasses. I wore them even today when it was cloudy. Sunglasses make you feel like it’s at least five degrees cooler outside.
Maybe I’ll even go to the beach. Maybe I’ll save that for next year. Baby steps.
Hello summer.
