Still bitching about the heat

The first issue was that this required putting on acceptable clothing. My uniform for several days now has been my running shorts with an itty bitty strappy tank top. This is just so that I could officially say I looked "decent" if the neighbors were to catch a glimpse of me. Although I don't really mind if they see me changing, I don't feel like being known as the Always Naked Girl.

I ended up finding something to wear eventually, and I forced myself to put it on. I wore one of those tank tops with semi-boob support because, seriously, I don't know what kind of raving psycho wears a bra in 100� heat. And nobody can argue back that they're the type of girl that can't go out in public without a bra, because I am one of those girls too. All social etiquette goes out the window when your brain is boiling.

So I went over the alteration guy's place, which is unfortunately tucked away from ANY breeze whasoever, as it's in a special little indoor strip mall deal. It's not air-conditioned, of course. Walking in, I immediately started dripping.

The guy that helped me was nice enough, but we both felt awkward trying to talk to one another while pretending sweat wasn't dripping off our chins.

My neighbors across the street have put up a huge sheet to cover the sun from coming in. They get the hot sun (afternoon), we get the bearable sun (morning on one side of the apartment, evening on the other). I would say their sheet is probably doing more harm than good by blocking the breeze, if only there was even a friggin hint of a breeze within 10 miles of my house.

I went to the grocery store and, although expecting the water selection to be rather pathetic as it has been since this heat wave took over, I was not expecting there to only be 12 bottles of Perrier, two bottles of Coke, and a few cans of Sprite left. In the ENTIRE drink section. We, of course, being entirely selfish people, grabbed the remaining Perrier and made a mad dash for the cash registers. That stuff's like gold to a parched Parisian.

These are the big glass bottles of Perrier, like a 40oz bottle of beer. I have alredy drunk two bottles since I woke up. It is 15.30.

I don't know who in their right mind decides to go to Spain in this sort of heat. But I'm under the impression that the temperatures throughout Europe are looming at this uncomfortable 100� point, from Spain up to England. I'm just hoping that the sea breeze along coats of Spain and Portugal will ease the heat a bit. I would argue that Paris, France may just be the worst place to be in this moment (alongside London): an inland city with no air-conditioning, lots of pollution, and crabby old ladies.

I am sleeping an average of 3-4 hours a night because it's too hot to consider doing otherwise. I haven't run in two weeks because, even at it's coolest (meaning in the middle of the night), Paris is in the high 70's.

The only nice kickback I can think of from all this heat is that people are literally not leaving their houses. My street is only alive after 21.00 - when the temperature drops down to, oh, I dunno, 88� and one can consider wearing a bra out in public. Otherwise, several merchants have just decided to take the week off (hey, they didn't have any clients anyway) and my usual hustling and bustling street is oddly mellow. It's kind of nice, in that I-live-in-a-relaxed-and-calm-neighborhood kind of way.

Were it to last forever, however, I would have to move. I like having the drunk guy who never wears a shirt and sometimes wears pants with a huge hole in the ass yell for half an hour, every night, at 3.00 am. I wonder where he's scurried off to in this heat. And if he is even bothering with the pants at all.