So, you know how the other day i was cutting sick on the fact that it was 39 degrees and i was officially outraged? Well yesterday it reached 43.2 degrees. Yep, that’s 109.7 (some parts of Perth recorded 46 degrees but i prefer to believe that is an urban legend, because that is seriously whack.)
Oddly enough it almost feels cooler than 39 because you’re prepared for it, you put on your attack face and if you’ve got errands you make sure you’re home before 9am to lie under that air conditioner and waste the day away. In our little home there is a H.D.P.O.A. (Hot Day Plan Of Attack, if you will)
Step One involves moving all small animals inside the house, Guinea Pigs on dining tables and Rabbits in Toilets (luckily we have two bathrooms so no one is attempting to use this while Adelaide is in residence, though my mum was caught out one time and had to, but that’s another story…)
Step Two is moving our bed to directly under the only air conditioning unit in the house, which is far too small to cope on days like these but far superior to a ceiling fan. When you move beds things like this happen at 2:30 in the afternoon.
Step Three is George’s responsibility, he places himself on his favourite armchair directly under the air conditioning vent and pretends it’s winter.
Step Four involves many icy glasses of diet coke.
I hope you’re somewhere far cooler than here