THE NORMAL TIME

The temperature outside was over eighty degrees by tea time, which meant that parts of me that had no business hurting, hurt. I wouldn't be surprised if health department records show that more middle-aged Dutch Americans die of circulation-related heat issues during Indian Summer than at any other time. Or run around mother-naked for relief. Amble around.
Ooze around. Slowly glide imperceptably around. Mother-naked.

There's a town in Texas founded by Dutch settlers. Texas frequently has outrageous temperatures, like three months at a hundred degrees plus, no break.
Which is perfect for chili peppers, and lousy for people.
Those settlers are all dead now.
You can look it up.
Q.E.D.

My feet feel like someone else has been walking in them. Someone who doesn't like me one bit, and is determined to let me know. A real blister. I'll tell him so when I see him.

Got a health payment taken care of, picked up a refill down at the pharmacy, did laundry so that I can smell fresh as a daisy during my medical appointments next week, and watched a German family gingerly experimenting with Vietnamese food while eating lunch myself.
Roast pork, spring rolls, rice (串燒豬肉春卷飯 'chuen siu jü yiuk chun kuen faan').

Then relaxed with a pipe for nearly an hour, hugely uncomfortable.
Those Texan Dutchmen were probably naked all the time.

The smoking session while waiting for the bookseller a few hours later was marginally more comfortable, as it had cooled down to the mid-seventies by then. My friend works out in the distant fogswathed part of the city, and consequently arrived beaming like a bloody alligator, having not suffered the heat wave in the Financial District and Chinatown area.

When we were at the burger place, an old friend showed up wearing a colourful bathrobe over his tropical hippie threads. He's more eccentric than ever now, deafer too, an elderly version of Arthur Dent, possibly expecting Zaphod to show up at any moment.
Conversation became odd after that. With much repetition.


Normally, conversations with me are sane and sensible.
And perfectly normal.


As Scarlett O'Hara says, "tomorrow will be worse".
Looks like it will be near one hundred.



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