Sweet Mother of All That Is Holy, is it hot up here! We’ve all been reduced to giant inert blobs with barely enough strength to wipe the sweat from our brows. And, oh, what sweat it is … this humid heat is so sticky and uncomfortable. I could take a half-dozen showers a day and still not feel clean. I no sooner get dressed and step out of the bathroom, and I’ve got sweat dripping off my forehead again. What happened to August being the start of fall in northern Sweden?!

I shouldn’t be complaining, I know, and before too long I’ll be thinking that I would sacrifice a non-vital organ for a warm, sunny day like today, but right now I am seriously pining for autumn. This kind of heat just feels like such a waste — it’s way too hot for being outside to be pleasant, and being inside in this land of no air conditioners is only slightly better. The summers here are so short and unpredictable that it feels almost like a sacred duty to squeeze every little drop of enjoyment from each ray of sunshine, and I feel like a wastrel of the worst kind sitting inside in front of the fan, but it’s all just too much for me.