My friend Dale, of whom I’ve written before, sent me the following text. [Context: Dale is in NYC. He recently moved into a new apartment. He was one day away from the installation of his air conditioning. He also loves Weezer, but that isn't germane to the subject at hand.]
I felt for the man. I did. It sucks to be hot. Sticky, gross, too hot to sleep. As I am his elder, and mentor, I gave him what wisdom I had.