The heat's horrible. My brain's melting and and I feel the goo coming out of my ears and from orifices I thought I never had. The fans are in danger of conking out, whirring at full-blast since early morning. Took showers twice already, but my face still drips of what appears like Minola cooking oil.
A warm breeze--more like a blast of hot air-- greeted me as I opened the front door, as if I were behind the exhaust of a phlegmatic bus trudging along EDSA. The concrete floor on my roof-less garage appears like a transported Sahara, OK I'm seeing a mirage.
I considered going out with an umbrella: I have a dozen, mind you, corporate give-aways accumulated over the years, but I never deigned to use because, well, I don't really want to look like a male Mary Poppins.
I'm still trying to decide whether I will step out of the house or lie back on the sofa.
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