I am melting. The dilapidated fan is whirring away in vain, I am wearing just jeans and a t-shirt, and the window is wide open. Yet I continue to melt.
I rotate between sitting at the desk on the uncomfortable chair, collapsing on the bed until it becomes too warm, or just walking around the room with my hands on my head in exasperation. With those fidgeting factors, this could take a while to write. Although, I don't even know what I'm writing.
The one thing I am certain of is that if I had to choose between the weather being forever cold or forever hot, I would choose cold. A psychologist or some such person may say that if the weather was cold at the moment, I would long for warm weather. They would be wrong. Even in the bitter cold of winter, I have said on numerous occasions that I would rather it was always that cold rather than stiflingly hot.
The heat makes me stressed, uncomfortable, agitated, short tempered, unproductive, and bored. If I want to get something done, I may take a shot at it, and then give up because the heat is all too much. In an attempt to embrace the warm weather, I wanted to sit outside in the sunshine and read a book - something I haven't done in a long time. One problem - the sun is not shining, there was even rain earlier, and the skies have been bland if anything. Yet I still find it warm. I'm just not cut out for warm weather. When it's cold, I can just put more clothes on. When it's warm, well, it would be awkward to remove clothes.
I have an urge to burst out and find some sunshine to sit in, yet I cannot find any.