I Will Try Not to Talk About the Heat

It does not seem possible that just 26 percent of the oil from the oil spill is left in the Gulf of Mexico. Yesterday, there were 60 years of damage to contend with. Today, poof. All gone. Please.

When did things become all or nothing? When did we lose the gray? Everything is gray, really. Do the people telling us these statistics (gained, apparently, from projections, not real data), President Obama included, I’m sorry to say, really think we are that idiotic? Everyone takes science lab. Everyone can feel a spin.

So, when you stay in your house the whole day because it is too hot to go outside, you get a little stir crazy by, oh, 3:47. Then, you go out. You think of somewhere to go. I went to the bookstore, then to buy paper for my daughter’s birthday invitations and then, to the supermarket to buy lettuce and mushrooms. Clearly, I could have survived the evening without lettuce and mushrooms. It wasn’t even cold in the ice cream aisle, where I went on purpose to feel cold. It was hot in the ice cream aisle, where you usually need a parka.

If they only said to us that the cap is working and that there is much more cleaning up to do, the silly news people and I wouldn’t be feeling as if we were told a fib and talking about it. It would have been such the smarter strategy. 

I Do Not Know What I Have Written Because it is So Hot

Oh hi. I’ve been missing, I know, and I apologize. Been doing other things. Seeing other places. Thinking other thoughts. Well, not really. It has just been hot. So hot. So hot that you can’t do other things, or see other places or think, anything. At all. No thinking. 

It has been crazy hot, in the 1oos, for days. Years, it seems. Yesterday, it was 106. Today, they said on TV that it was 102, only 102. They lie, those people. It was 129. I know, because I went outside two times. It was 129, without a doubt.

I have never adjusted to the heat here in Texas. Imagine opening your oven while a roast is roasting, just to see how it’s doing. Imagine that waft that hits you in the face and makes you worry that your eye lashes are burning off your lids and falling off. Imagine that scare, knowing how bad you will look with no eyelashes. Imagine having nowhere to  put the mascara. That is how hot it is here. It’s no-mascara hot. It is Hell. With the flames and pitchforks. 

I am delirious, even with the air conditioning. Air conditioning is like killing a bear with a fly swatter. Why am I talking about killing bears. It is 129, that’s why. Okay, bye.