Sure, it was 114° in Newport Beach yesterday, the hottest day in ten years here. And it was late October – that time of year when I have zero excuse for being so sweaty. Still not convinced.
But then, disaster struck:
At 8 p.m., a transformer on my street blew up and caught on fire, which knocked out our power, and I couldn’t use fans or AC. I was now so sweaty, it would be biologically accurate to call me amphibious.
It took a crew most of the night to repair, so I’m operating on about two hours of sleep. Oh, and I was always 100% on board with global warming. But today, if you question it, I will punch you in the throat.
