This is what I found when searching “heat exhaustion.” Not representative of how I feel right now.
Do you think it’s possible that, by virtue of having grown up Minnesotan, having spent more than one Halloween in a winter coat and nearly every March in winter boots, having built dozens of snow forts in front and backyards and spent hours inside them without a problem, and having hidden indoors in the summers, in air-conditioned space, that a person can adapt (over 25 years) into someone who is evolutionarily unable to tolerate weather over 83 degrees?
No, you don’t need to answer that. I know it to be true. My normal body temperature is in the 97 degree range. That has to mean something, right? I’m moving to Hoth.
Anyway, it was 93 degrees out yesterday, a muggy 93, and I know this is probably tiny-violin-level complaining for those of you in New York right now, but I CANNOT WITHSTAND THESE ATMOSPHERIC CONDITIONS. My apartment, which I had previously considered charming and bucolic, is now an airless pit of hellfire that I hate. A “severe” storm was supposed to happen last night to end this misery — it did not.
When I was in high school I started this thing with my JV tennis team that was essentially a rain dance. We did it when we wanted to get out of practice early. We held hands and kind of skipped in a circle. I know there were words, but I can’t remember them. I’m thinking about going out back and trying it now, but it’s just going to look pretty weird doing it by myself.