Wednesday, October 14, 2026

TOTAL HE-MAN HYDRATION

My apartment mate has been asked to tend to the cat downstairs while our landlady is away. Which means that she feeds him, changes the litterbox, refills the water bowl and spends nearly an hour talking to him. He is a senior cat. So, technically, an old man. And by comparison I am a young fellow in the absolute prime of my life. Positively shining.

Which is NOT at all how I felt after upon returning home from my shopping expedition down in C'town today. It was over seventy degrees Fahrenheit on Stockton Street this afternoon, and because my circulation does not do what it's told, I felt wrecked.

I am good at hiding stuff like that, because most people have absolutely no understanding of the issue, or, if they even notice it, will helpfully tell me to just man through it, it's wonderful weather, and really I should complain less don't I know.

Or, and this is an extremely small minority, exclaim "oh you poor old toad, would you like a large cold beverage with ice cubes?" Which is very kind of her, but don't mind me I shall be okay in a short while.

And then I'll sit here like a lump for an hour or so waiting for the leg throbbing to stop.
Not moving, not breathing, involuntarily twitching and just not saying much.


So naturally, now that the temperature has finally gone down to mid-sixties, I have prepared myself a hot mug of tea. No milk, sugar, lemon, or honey. Just tea.
The great thing about most airports is that the inside temperature, even if it's in the middle of the Sahara desert, is sub arctic. Because airport staff prefer themselves and the passengers to be awake and alert, rather than limply melting in sweltering heat. Everything functions so much better when it's that way. Yeah, the hot asfalt outside would fry an egg, but room temperature is, ideally, slightly on the colder side.

Perhaps not in Las Vegas or Hawaii, and definitely not Florida.
But we're talking normal people, not tanned iguanas.
Honestly, cover up those tattoos.
And those icky navels.
Or nipples.


No shirt, no shoes, no entry under any circumstances.
Not even if terrorists are shooting at you.
Or speed-freak ICE agents.



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