Every time you call my name
I heat up like a burnin flame.
Burning flame, full of desire
Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher.
So I smiled as the last of my teeth melted instead of griping. But it was hot. 96 degrees with an index of 105. That's warm for this big pizza oven of a city. I think my blood is thickening. In New Orleans, I sometimes woke up drenched in sweat, even though my house was air conditioned. The temperature down there can hit 90 before the sun comes up.
But here, well, I've gotten used to using wimpy deodorants. I rarely sweat through my shirts, and I sometimes throw a sweater in my bag to combat my always-freezing office. The heat got me a bit today, though. I walked about 30 blocks in the sun this morning, and I definitely needed something stronger than SECRET by the time I got to the office. Oof.
Still, it was cooler here than my family's home in South Arkansas. They're probably having people drop dead in the Baskin-Robbins parking lot.
2 comments:
Ahhhh...the good ol' Steve Miller Band.
It was 98 here today, but it felt much stronger in the direct sun, as I was much of the day because I had to drop car off for service, bus back home, and later bus back to garage and pick up car. I also have to water the garden every day when it's this hot. Fortunately, I have just harvested some nice New Mexico chiles, my basil is going to town, I have a bunch of yellow peppers ripening and wouldn't you know it, but a whole buttload of tomatoes are on the vine just waiting to get ripe! So I guess the heat is helping something.
And I wish someone would define a "buttload," because I've never really known how much that truly is, even though I use the phrase all the time.
Post a Comment