This week has been a learning experience.
For instance, there’s not much like working in 125 degree heat to teach you about life and the 21st century. I also learned the name for the kind of effed up blazer of a storm that comes winging out of nowhere, destroys a bunch of power lines, and then vanishes. It’s called a derecho, in case you’re wondering. Which I think is meteorologist merde for “Oh, shit. None of us saw this coming. Quick, make something up.”
They of course are prone to occur when your thermometer reads the highest possible numbers. When temperatures go that high, your brain experiences something I assume is akin to overdosing on methamphetamines.
It also gave me something about which to feel excessive gratefulness, which I thought I would share with you.
The kitchen in our restaurant was 125 degrees on Friday night. I think there are some ovens that have that setting. Feel free to explore, but I wouldn’t recommend sticking your head in. Here are a few things that I have decided to be grateful for this week.
1. Air conditioning.
It’s bad enough when the heat index creeps past triple digits. If the world never got above 80, I would be quite content. Aside from the basic fact that my skin goes from zero to lobster in less than three seconds, that kind of stifling sauna makes me feel like I can’t breathe. It also creates homicidal impulses.
I’m just saying.
The best part about having to work in a restaurant when it’s this hot is that you get the joy of knowing your body is dripping sweat. You also get to go up to tables with perspiration beading on your forehead and upper lip, hoping your pit stains don’t show and that you don’t drip your own personal salt onto someone’s entree. Let’s face it. That’s what the shaker is for.
I love walking up to a table knowing I look disgusting.
But that might explain any pity tips I got today.
2. I don’t have to wear twenty layers of clothing.
Over Fourth of July weekend about ten years ago, I visited my sister and her husband at a Civil War reenactment in Oregon. (I know. I’ll wait while you unscrew your look of consternation.)
This is how I got dressed each day.
Chemise. Corset. Petticoat. Petticoat. Hoop skirt. Petticoat. Petticoat. Skirt. Long sleeved high necked blouse. Waistcoat.
Can you imagine wearing all of that? Ever?
And that’s not even all of what women had to pile on back then. Even poor women were expected to cover themselves from chin to toes lest they be able to breathe and/or move. Add that many layers of restrictive clothing to triple digit heat, and I think I’d prefer a job as the Official Taliban Chamber Pot Emptier.
Women of most of the world, take a moment to celebrate the fact that we may wear shorts and t-shirts. And expose our ankles.
You don’t miss this stuff until you don’t have it when you want it.
Yesterday we took Buffy Puppy to a nearby state park to let her jump into the water. And by jump I mean we threw her in.
There’s something about waiting tables for twelve straight hours of insane business that makes you pretty thirsty.
4. Friends who offer you a spare room.
When your air conditioning breaks and you feel like stripping naked and running across the lawn, it’s nice to be re-tethered to humanity by a friend saying, “Hey. Chill, dude. Come sleep on our spare bed.”
Rather than spend last night in our sweltering top floor apartment, we spent it in a friend’s basement after watching our puppy romp and frolic with theirs for a few hours.
So this week there was a lot to be grateful about — including the immensity of tonight’s chaos at work that made me twice as much money as I expected to.
Which gives me an idea. Next time our flat is without air conditioning, maybe we should just open up a sauna and charge for admission.
Were you affected by Friday’s massive storm? How much fun was YOUR power outage? Does anyone really, truly like this kind of weather?
Posted on July 2, 2012, in Uncategorized and tagged Air conditioning, Civil War, Heat index, Independence Day (United States), July, Oregon, Perspiration, Petticoat. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.