As I sit and write this blog, I would approximate that the temperature in our flat is a million degrees. I can barely see the computer screen through the beads of sweat dripping from my brow, and sweat pools splash up every time I hit a key. Seriously… it’s hot. My hay fever is so bad it’s like my living room is a florist and I can’t move my head too quickly or snot will fly everywhere. I feel miserable.
The heat has received mixed reviews from Adlai, though he is without doubt handling it better than me. He is at his happiest completely naked and in some kind of cool water. And, he has taken a liking to ice cream (we only let him have a lick or two), though its coldness takes him by surprise every time he takes a bite. But it’s the nights which have been the hardest. It’s just so hot the little fella is really struggling.
Friends and family in America don’t seem to sympathise, telling us that it’s 115 degrees there. Dearest America, please understand that we don’t have air conditioning here so your smug tones are not appreciated. As I sweat in bed tonight I will be trying to figure out if I can somehow build my own AC unit. It might be expensive and we might only need it for two weeks out of the year, but something must be done.
