Sunday, July 18, 2010

Heat Wave


Let's hope it's a heat wave, anyway, and not the new summer.
Mrs. Drinkwalter and Bobby are not North of Berkeley for the summer, but way way to the east of Berkeley. Every summer, they leave one of the few parts of the U.S. that is comfortable in July. Mrs. Drinkwalter does this because blood is thicker than water. Bobby goes along because he is a very small dog who is zipped into a mesh and canvas carry-on bag and given little choice in the matter.
When the temperature is slightly above 100 and the humidity slightly below 100, lassitude and depression take over.
My friends in Texas deal with similar weather, but live with high-powered air conditioning that is always ready at the flick of a switch. Here in New England we endlessly fiddle with fans and cranky window AC units that have to be hauled out of closets. We experiment with, and argue about, when to open or close which windows and doors, when to draw the curtains, how much time can reasonably be spent in the town pond.
Everybody's weak points get wobblier. Sad people get sadder, crazy people get crazier, the kids squabble, the dogs behave badly.
Nothing much is accomplished.