Urspo plans an estivation.

The weather reports have taken on an ominous tone of doom; they portend record-high temperatures are just around the bend. We are now into temps over 40C. I am seeing as high at 48C. I’ve decided not to bother to translate this into Fahrenheit, for I am certain of two things:

1. 40 C = 104 F

2.  Fine-tuning degrees is pointless for any over 40 C/104 F is just bloody hot.

From the local news, one gets the impression temperatures like these have never happened before and we are all sitting ducks. There are warnings and hysterics about not letting youngsters and pets out of doors, and to ascertain plenty of drinking plenty of water, and checking on the elderly who apparently drop like flies if you don’t.

Urs Truly is taking the “pets approach” and plans on staying indoors as much as possible. Forgoing the gym is a sensible notion for over-exertion and dehydration is readily available without forcing such through exercise. The pool is deep, limpid, and inviting (like my men) but it sits in full sunlight; my pate would peel in an instant. Large white pool umbrellas help – as do drinks loaded with massive amounts of ice.  However, even sitting in the pool wearing a cap and drinking iced tea (how lovely) is no fun when the air you are breathing is a toasty 48C. Oh the pain.

On the positive side, dressing down is more accepted when the air is like an oven. I could probably show up to work in Bermuda shorts and at T-shirt and no one would not forgive me.* Spo-shirts are allowed; they are made for looking stylish without too much loss of dignity.

In the end there really isn’t anything one can do about the weather other than to go into estivation and wake up a few months hence. If it is good for the geckos it is good enough for me. Stay cool.

 

*Exception: the APA Secret Police. If these sumptuous nabobs got wind of my dressing down and showing up at work looking like I was going to the beach they would send their minions to drag me away to their Azkaban for Analysts. Oh the horror.