Whose idea was it to turn up the heat again? We've had days and days of lovely - if slightly wet, thanks to Irene - weather, which is perfect because we're definitely in the mood for fall. We're longing for socks and sweaters; brisk mornings and warm afternoons; and fresh, thick stacks of three-holed foolscap. We thought we were over the last of summer's swelter, we were survivors.
You can bear anything if you know how long it will last: a needle, childbirth, a math exam, a really bad Al Pacino movie. You brace yourself for that second, that day, that hour or two, because you know relief has an appointed arrival time. Endurance becomes challenging when the difficult thing comes around again and again. You think it's done with and congratulate yourself on having come through - but wait, here it is again.
So it is with the weather. Granted, we don't have it so bad here, not like, say, Calgary, where they get 30 degree fluctuations in the space of a weekend, moving from three-foot snow drifts, to drinks on the terrace in shorts. That said, I'm not looking forward to the projected high of 40 Celsius today. I will make the progression from limp noodle to comatose steamed vegetable. Ugh.
Whose idea was this?