I feel like if I yell "heat wave" it sounds like something out of a Beach Boys song instead of something that drives me indoors with even more ferocity than normal.
My grass looks like straw. We could water it, like our neighbor who goes out with a hose and waters his lawn by hand while talking on his cell phone for hours at a time, but that would mean the grass would grow more and we'd have to mow it more, which sounds like a bad idea.
On days like this, when it's 93° and the humidity makes it feel like you're walking in someone's mouth, all I want to do is sit on the couch in my underwear, windows drawn, with a wet towel draped over my head. Sometimes, to help myself savor that feeling even more, I think about how on days like this in, like, pioneer times or whatever, they'd be wearing long-sleeved dresses, maybe even with petticoats. Suckers. And the only escape they had was shade, not central air. I think I'm too whiny to have been a good pioneer. I'd have been one of those pale, wan girls with what the doctors described as "weak constitutions" who laid on the couch and coughed gently.
We're having friends over for dinner this week, and I'm making a pasta dish zucchini and tomatoes from our CSA and I'll be attempting to make garlic bread in the toaster so I don't have to turn the oven on. We'll see how that goes.
Is it super hot where you are too? How are you dealing with it?