It’s hot and I do not like the heat very much. In fact I am allergic to heat. I break out in this strange kind of condition where all the cells of my skin start to seep out moisture. It’s quite disgusting really.
Anyhow, it is super hot in this place where it is NOT suppose to be hot at all! So I seem to go from one air-conditioned space to another all day long. The car feels like the inside of a crockpot and I wonder if I couldn’t cook a big pot roast in there if I left the car in the sun.
It is terribly hard to write a sermon, a Sunday school lesson, a book review, a memorial service homily or, really, to even think when it is this hot. But, it’s actually too hot to do much of anything else, either. AND it’s only July! Who knows what August is going to be like!
I need to write at least two of these many things so that I can fully have tomorrow off. Actually, one of them must be the memorial service homily since that one is on Saturday. Come on brain! Kick in!
The truth is that I am bored. Bored Bored bored. Not because I do not have things to do–quite the contrary, actually. But I always have a tremendous sense of guilt with boredom. My father often reminded me that boredom was of our own making and, therefore, I am in control of whether or not I am bored.
Could it be possible that either the heat, the repeated exposure to artificially cooled air produced by air conditioners, or perhaps the endless repeating of the two extremes could have depleted my ability to think?
It is possible.