And then you realize that you’ve still got the forecast from your last trip on your phone, when, while trudging through 90-something-degrees-plus-1,000%-humidity (on the super-heated treeless streets of downtown Brooklyn, no less), you happen to give the weather app an extra swipe. Maybe the lows in the mid-fifties and the rain EVERY DAY for the rest of the week/until the end of time isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I’m seething with jealousy. Melting, even.
The other day I said to my mother, “You know I’m really tired of this heatwave, right?” And she said something like, “I think this is just summer, from now on.” You’re all welcome to come and visit me next summer in Wales. Or the North Pole. Bring an umbrella.