Hot One.

After the rain and hail and freaky tornado weather yesterday, the city got hot and muggy and swelled up. It was bursting its seams by nine this morning.

Where D.W. is, it’s hotter. I got a letter from him today that told of the heat in South Carolina. He said it was brutal on its own but worse in the uniforms everyone wears. I decided to show solidarity for him by taking two Bikram classes in a row this afternoon. Three hours in 105 degree heat, bending this way and that will hopefully send some kind of message to him via the universe that I was soaking through my clothes in his name.

In other news, I saw an absolutely demolished car on Glenwood today. A tree had fallen on it and smashed it flat as a flapjack. Pebbles of glass were everywhere and the tree was still there, boasting its massive strength and ambivalence toward the Prius.

Exactly one month from today, I’ll be recovering from surgery, sleeping—or not sleeping—in the hospital.

The heat, the smashed car, the timeline of my body under anesthesia.

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