Today, and for the past couple of days, it's reached these sorts of temperatures in our home city of Christchurch. This would be wonderful, except...
Where the hell is the pool?
Every time we book our holiday accommodation we make sure first and foremost that it has a pool. We don't care what type, kidney shaped, round, plunge, rectangle. The main thing is that it is filled with clean water, and that we can use it naked. Use it naked without someone else seeing, I mean.
We are not equipped for holiday weather at home. I had to do the dishes an hour ago. I'm still sweating monstrously from it. The only benefit from this is that when I fan myself (with a manual old-fashioned fan I should add) it actually feels cool because of the liquid beading on my facial skin.
Today the temperature even went too far for my darling (who has a higher tolerance for heat than I do.) He let me turn on the heat pump. To pump out cool, cool air.
Cool, cool air that instantly heats up to around thirty degrees as soon as it hits the main airflow in our living room.
Last night I tried to sleep on the couch because my darling didn't have his snore-guard in, and it was too hot to put up with it.
So I came out to the couch and laid down naked. It was too hot. And then I thought, 'What if I fall asleep on the couch and don't wake up until morning and the neighbour can see straight in?'
In my half-asleep brain this demanded an immediate remedy. So I pulled a rug over myself that I usually only use in winter.
When I was still awake at four o'clock this morning I chucked my darling out of bed and finally got some sleep in a room with the curtains fully pulled shut. I could have done that in the living room of course, except my tired brain didn't think of it at the time.
So all of today I've been hot, and sleep-deprived grumpy. And tomorrow is Monday, so I'll be 'What the hell happened to the weekend?' grumpy.
It's gonna be a long, long, hot, hot week.
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