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PHOENIX — Hot is a relative term for people used to the scorching summer weather in this city built on land better suited for cactus than lawns. But nine straight days of excessive heat seem to have stretched even the most elastic tolerance levels to their limits. [...]
The heat is so intense it feels as if it is searing the exposed skin. Cracking the front door feels like opening the oven to check the cookies. To enter a car that has been parked in the sun for some time is like stepping inside a wood-burning stove; steering wheels are so hot sometimes they might burn a driver’s fingers. Parents take to draping child seats with sun shades, like the ones they use on windshields.
-- Fernanda Santos at The New York Times
Phoenix is one of the few places in this country that can cheer me up at this time of the year. We're a tad better. Though, they usually like to say that theirs is a dry heat, whereas our heat is apparently of the less desirable variety. I suspect I'd still rather suffer July and August here than in Phoenix, but we're really only talking about subtle variations of hell. Air-conditioning keeps things human, but you are never truly free of the heavy awareness that you are living in a brutal no-man's zone.
I wish our cats would appreciate the great luxury they have of being able to doze all day in an air-conditioned house, but they will still cry to be let out into that cresting heatwave. My Bo was able to appreciate what he had. He would step out to do his business and then race back inside the house as if he were a vampire-dog escaping the sun. Smart Dog! Like his master.
Bo says, "Aww, thank you, Kemo Sabe!"
Don't spoil the mood.
The heat is so intense it feels as if it is searing the exposed skin. Cracking the front door feels like opening the oven to check the cookies. To enter a car that has been parked in the sun for some time is like stepping inside a wood-burning stove; steering wheels are so hot sometimes they might burn a driver’s fingers. Parents take to draping child seats with sun shades, like the ones they use on windshields.
-- Fernanda Santos at The New York Times
Phoenix is one of the few places in this country that can cheer me up at this time of the year. We're a tad better. Though, they usually like to say that theirs is a dry heat, whereas our heat is apparently of the less desirable variety. I suspect I'd still rather suffer July and August here than in Phoenix, but we're really only talking about subtle variations of hell. Air-conditioning keeps things human, but you are never truly free of the heavy awareness that you are living in a brutal no-man's zone.
I wish our cats would appreciate the great luxury they have of being able to doze all day in an air-conditioned house, but they will still cry to be let out into that cresting heatwave. My Bo was able to appreciate what he had. He would step out to do his business and then race back inside the house as if he were a vampire-dog escaping the sun. Smart Dog! Like his master.
Bo says, "Aww, thank you, Kemo Sabe!"
Don't spoil the mood.
