Heat Wave

If you can't stand the heat, don't tickle the dragon
-- Annonymous

The weather dictated my weekend. If outdoor chores, like weeding the garden or vacuuming out the backseat crumbs that cling under Naomi's child seat, were undone by 10 a.m. the task was rendered unbearable.

The heat similarly dictated my schedule almost a decade ago. It was unusually hot that first summer I moved to Denver. My studio apartment in Capital Hill didn't offer the creature comfort of air conditioning. With any semblance of a cross breeze drawing dust and fumes from the alley the place was uninhabitable by 11 a.m. I lived the life of an conditioning squatter that summer. Pulled the blinds closed, and left the apartment in search of climate control. The public library offered me refuge. Similarly I frequented free Saturdays at the Denver Art Museum. Its best not to ask, and I refrain from naming how many times I toured Molly Brown's house.

At thirty-five I reside in an air conditioned box known as a house. In contrast to my response to unbearable weather as a twenty-something which was to go out, my resolve this time was to beat the heat by staying inside. Naomi and I pulled closed the curtains, turned down the a/c and played board games. We read some silly books and sang karaoke like we were rock stars. Our tongues yelped this noon from all the frozen fruit popsicles we'd eaten.

The heat wave, McKibbin informs me, is supposed to break mid week. I'll be glad for the freedom cooler weather allows but, like that first summer in Denver, I have enjoyed the search for cooler climates.