It’s almost midnight. I just had a look and my spouse has finally fallen asleep, completely naked, in our bedroom, next to my office. I’m left alone awaken in our small and overheated apartment.
The temperature is at 29.8°C or so… OK, it’s a cheap thermometer that’s sitting right on my desk, one may read a degree lower than that but it’s still hot for a June midnight evening, here in Paris. Too hot for me to sleep, anyway. And it will even be much hotter tomorrow if I’m to believe the weather forecast as they announce a peak to 35°.
So, instead of sleeping, I just spent some time reading various threads on Lemmy, commenting on one. Something I would normally not do as I don’t want to use the computer in the evening, I would prefer to read. But it’s even too hot to read in here or on our balcony as the heat accumulated by the streets is radiating back.
More than the heat itself, it’s the feeling of the air on my skin that I find exhausting. It feels like if it was some thick fluid, not the usual aery thing it’s supposed to be. It’s thick and it’s weighing and pressing against every single pore of my skin. It’s pressing even harder every time I make a move. It doesn’t like me.
I feel like a salmon swimming upstream. And like that poor salmon reaching the end of the stream after so many exhausting efforts, I could use some rest… if only it was not so hot.
I don’t know why I wrote this post. Probably has something to do with me not wanting to end up like one of those salmons and me not wanting not get up and move my ass. But enough of me ranting, I think it’s more than time I shut down that computer and grab a book instead, maybe with a large glass of fresh water to accompany me.
Published: 2025 Jun 20