:: your brain starts to melt and simple decisions become difficult. driving, even with the aircon on, seems very glarey and trickey. you somehow feel compelled to sit in this hot room and write about the heat.
:: you spend a hot morning hacking the haircut you went out in the heat to get on Tuesday. you say you want it very short. they cut it in a bob. towards the end you are fuming but hold your ground and say that it wasn't what you asked for. they offer another session for free (really no skin off their nose as it was a hairdressing school). you wouldn't offer that hairdresser a job (she was trying out for a job in the chain) no matter how good her cutting skills if she a) can't listen and b) can't read such obvious body language. on the second cut we are on a path to short short and then you say you kind of like the long on top of the short and the hairdresser convinces you to go with that. should never have changed your mind. have been hacking it ever since. it is now very short. and hacked. in the heat that seems like the only sensible option (photo to come).
:: the streets are eerily quiet. you dash to the shop in the morning for some supplies; ice, food, dry ginger. you're reminded of an earthcore, 1999 perhaps when it was so hot that you dreamed we all lived in holes under ground and only came up at night. the man at the shop says the fridge is not cooling properly. it has a cover over it. you buy snack food, tinned dolmades, bread, labeneh, fruit. things to eat without cooking, because who'd want to light a stove in the house?
:: bloglines has been going nuts. you opened it last night to see thousands of posts. next time you open it they're all gone
:: you curse when you forgot to cover the steering wheel and gear stick in the car because, despite the aircon, it's really too hot to touch for the short drive to pick Grace up early from childcare because the airconditioners there have broken down. normally you wouldn't drive to do this, but it seems cruel making a three year old walk up the hill when the sun is glaring and it's 43C (actually it got up to 44.3C later in the day, that's 111.74F). you tell Grace not to touch anything metal on the car, because it will burn her.
:: you wonder why people are so anti airconditioning? you considered getting rid of yours (the ugly thing on the wall) but it's your new best friend. at least one room in the house is bearable. it's turned off for the night, but it's going on again tomorrow. reno plans now include evaporative aircon with the existing fans when we can afford it.
:: you watch a DVD (the one about Beatrice Potter) in the afternoon. in the aircon. you let Grace watch the end with you, despite the fact that she has a telly ban for treating her dvds badly. it is nice but you don't let her watch any kids telly because a) there is no tv reception anymore and b) there's a telly ban and c) you're mean like that.
:: you all go to the pool for dinner. along with everyone else in the neighborhood. nobody eats much. you wish you'd packed more beer. being submerged is the best, best feeling. you all play in the water alot. even G. Grace is most happy. it's fun. very social. you're outraged they close the pool at eight and everyone just packs up and goes home.
:: there's another day of this and then the foercast is for days in the mid thirties (35C = 95F). you're reading the BOM site a lot at the moment. funny how that looks like relief from here. you should have gone to bed an hour ago. at least.