It’s 70 Degrees Outside And It’s Killing Me

I can’t take the heat. But I’ll take cold any day.

Feel The Burn

It’s that time of the year again. After months of freezing winter, the weather spirits flip the season switch. Then one day, that wall of heat hits, and my room goes from a refrigerator to an oven.

I grew up in San Francisco, a city where summer basically never existed. It was mostly degrees in the 40s, 50s, and 60s. Anything above that was phenomenal to me, and foggy days were pretty much a given.

Despite the cold, I rarely wore a jacket. I’d often go with short sleeves, for that matter. It may have caused me to shiver so violently that I looked like an alarm clock. But that’s what I was used to.

This is what made me feel alive.

I embraced the cold. I still think it’s way better than heat. I can always add more layers when it gets chilly. I have plenty of shirts to wear. But the opposite isn’t necessarily true.

With hot weather, I can only take off so much before there’s nothing left. Even then, it might not be enough to mitigate the boiling temperatures. And let’s not even mention the sweat.

Unless you’re some sort of reptilian being that can shed their outer layers, the heat will win eventually.

The layer of fog also acted as a protective barrier from the sun. There was no need for sunblock. Nor was there a blinding brightness that forced me to squint to see. It was a nice and comfy gray.

This was the weather I’d been acclimated to for my entire life. But then, over eight years ago, I moved away. And my new home was someplace much, much hotter.

Hot Days

Even room temperature can feel sweltering to me now. It’s currently seventy-seven degrees. And it feels hot. Not uncomfortably so, but the absence of chills feels bizarre.

It’s almost too comfortable to live in. Every moment of the day, I feel like falling asleep. No matter how much I rest, I can’t muster the energy to do anything.

And that’s only below eighty degrees.

Our area got record-breaking heat in September 2022. I didn’t know it could even get that hot around here. Except for maybe Death Valley. But those temperatures in a residential area seemed unfathomable.

Three-digit temperatures were near impossible in San Francisco. Eighty degrees already felt like death. So imagine how I felt when this number showed up.

The brain fuzz makes it impossible to think. It’s difficult to focus on any work. It’s taking everything I’ve got just to stay awake. But even lying in bed feels tiring.

Living in the heat also dispelled my cold resistance abilities. Sixty-degree days used to almost feel warm. But now, I can’t help but get the shivers. That permafrost insulation has melted away from my skin.

Without that innate power, I suffer from both the summer heat and the winter cold. The temperature more than triples, from 32 to 100 degrees over the months. And it takes me along for the ride.

This is like temperate whiplash.

Technically, it’s still spring for another two months. But back when I was in elementary school, summer equated to summer break. And that started near the end of May.

So I associate the painful heat that comes around this time with summer.

Don’t get me wrong, the aura does feel nice. Due to my prior years of disassociation, I haven’t felt this feeling since I was like 14. It’s that warm atmosphere in the air I once knew.

That feeling of summer break.

But man, is it exhausting.
It feels like I’m being smothered with a blanket.

I think I’m going to take a nap.