I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

We're in the middle of a heatwave. It's been between 90º and 100º every day for a week. It's unpleasant.

Partly because I don't do heat. Heat and I are not friends. I suffer in hot weather. I don't know how to say it more plainly.

So, to compensate, I always have the air conditioning on. And then I get cold. So I turn it down or off. And then I'm sweltering again. Over and over and over.

At work the air conditioning is on so ferociously that I have the heater blowing hot air on my sandaled feet.

At the health club, it was too warm and I felt positively saintly for logging 25 minutes on the treadmill.

In winter, when it's freezing, there's a camaraderie among Chicagoans. "Can you believe this?" we ask one another on the slushy streets or as we try to sit, side by side, on the el, even though our downcoats make it difficult.

In summer, we simply growl at one another.

At work, everyone appears either grumpy or washed out.

I'm going home now for my Wednesday off. It's supposed to be 99º tomorrow. My one gal's simple dream is to not speak to anyone, recharge my battery with lots of alone time, and feel better for my return to work on Thursday.