Heat index 107, one fan, zero dignity

The heat advisory was not a suggestion. I know that now. Sarah came over this morning with the plan of going through some of the coordination notes for the multi-family archive project — Margaret connected us with two more family contacts last week and the paperwork situation has quietly become a whole thing — and instead we both walked in, felt the apartment, looked at each other, and just… accepted our fate. Jake’s window unit is doing its best. Its best is not enough for a July heat index of 107.

Heat index 107, one fan, zero dignity

At some point we abandoned the table entirely and moved to the floor. The floor is slightly cooler. Slightly. Sarah brought a magazine to read and it became a fan within about four minutes. I found a takeout menu. We were horizontal on the hardwood at 11am like two people who had simply given up on the vertical lifestyle, which honestly felt like the most rational response to the situation. I don’t know when summer got like this. I grew up with heat but this is something different — the kind where you check your phone and the little weather app just shows a flame emoji and nothing else.

The ice tray is now empty. We have no regrets.

The archive notes are still on the table, untouched. We did eventually make it to the kitchen for ice water, which is when things briefly improved. Pressed the cold glass against my face for a full thirty seconds. No shame. Sarah did the exact same thing without even looking at me first, which is the mark of a real friendship — you don’t have to explain the ice-glass-to-forehead move, you just both do it in unison and feel no need to comment. The coordination work will happen. Just maybe after the sun goes down and this apartment remembers what a normal temperature feels like.