OK.
It's pretty clear by now, if you've listened to my carry-on at all, that I really can't deal with the heat. When the mercury rises, my coping abilities fall.
I become a pink-cheeked, frazzled and desperate thing. I stand in the freezer at work (don't tell anybody), I bemoan my lack of appropriate summer attire (why can't I do casual, ever?), and I simply can't think straight. I go to the shopping centre by choice, because, airconditioning. I shun crochet because even the thought of yarn against my skin makes me prickle with sweat.
It doesn't help that my workmates aren't bothered by the heat. I've been heard to wail, in the peak of a busy service "Do you not have blood in your veins? Look at you! Look! Cool as fuck!' while my hair goes frizzy and my very soul wilts.
And any thought of love squeezings go out the window. Summer is officially the least sexy season. Although, now that I think about it, there's this...
PHEW. AND YOU'RE WELCOME.
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