Is it possible that my house was constructed to not only hold heat but become at least 10 degrees hotter than whatever the outside temperature is? According to my outdoor thermometer, which is in the shade, it is 90 degrees. Inside, I believe it's closer to 100. Why, do you ask? Well, the heat is emanating from the walls. I can feel it against my right bare shoulder and ear, coming at my body like a wave. No, a wave retreats at some point. This is horrific.
Okay, not horrific. I'm not going to die. Charlie is not going to die.
This is yucky.
I tried something new, suggested to me by Chella's significant other; I opened up all the windows and kept the fan on last night and early this morning. Then, before noon, I closed everything up. windows, curtains, blinds all closed. Supposedly this was to "keep the coolness in" because I have a mostly cinderblock house. I left the house for about three hours.
Closing up the house doesn't work. It's foul. I'm going to have to go to the movies, but that means leaving my little dog here. I don't think that's fair. Of course, I'm the human, but he's covered in fur. He can't be comfortable.
He's under the dining room table now, tongue out, on his side, looking rather comatose.
Then again, why should we both suffer?
1 comment:
Don't you live at the beach? What about dipping your toes in the soothing coolness of the Pacific.
I know what you mean about the movies though, perfect way to escape the afternoon heat.
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