one soupy summer

late-night rituals have never been so dank. as i shuffle around to do laundry and tidying, i notice the wood flooring is sticky, not quite damp. i'm peeling the bottoms of my slippers off the floor with each step. every window in the house is fogged up like the inside of a teenager's car at make-out point. and all this on the inside of an air-conditioned home. i consider myself extremely fucking fortunate with this chilling device - doing my part to deplete the power supply.

outside, the air is like soup. occasional cloudiness - like that of earlier today - does not deceive. nor does the occasional rainshower or the seeming nearness of one. we've pretty much come to accept the constant dewy heat, whatever colour or form it takes. the only thing in the sky that correlates effectively to temperature is a blazing sun, which beats on us often enough. otherwise, the heat is constant. and muggy. when outdoors, we wade slowly through damp air, up here in these unlikely canuck surroundings. this sweaty suffocation is not tropical or sunkissed or exotic. there are no palm trees or steel bands or rickshaws about. and tom cruise is not shaking me up a mai-tai. nope, this is the great white north. and central canada is gasping. no no, i'm not complaining, what with my leisurely work schedule and (very-soon-to-be-functional) pool. i'm just saying.

only half a summer to go.