Steam on the sidewalks

I have no sense of humor today. It's been sucked up by the heat.

It's 86 degrees right now in New York City. Right now meaning 11:15 at night. The A/C hasn't been turned on in the building and the fan in the unit isn't working properly. So when someone told me an hour ago that it would cool off during the night, I asked her, "When?"

I actually like heat. I'm not a fan of air conditioning and try to switch it off behind C's back whenever he's not looking. Dose of irony for ya: he's the English one and I'm the American one. Enough said.

Now it's getting to be a little too much, given that I live in a box of still air with the windows facing the wrong way. Last night's flight home was kicked off by a plane with no A/C. That I took in stride. Combined with tonight though, I'm starting to think it's not a coincidence. It's like the Berlitz school of "Welcome to summer" or something.

Sweat - the right kind of sweat - is kind of sexy. It's kind of tropical and kind of makes your skin dewy, like J. Lo. It can even smell nice in its own organic way, without being too organic.

Let's just say I'm not having the right kind of sweat right now.