I have often had occasion to reflect on the fact that living in Toronto is hell, but these past weeks — and especially today — it is truer than ever.
Apparently last night was the hottest night on record for the city, and although today’s blast from Beelzebub’s bellows is projected to fall just short of the all-time heat record, it is most unpleasant all the same. I bought some ice cream but it melted before I could eat it. This evening I intend to cook sausages by simply setting them outside.
(That ‘Feels Like:’ temperature folds in the humidity. I don’t know if places that are perpetually hot and humid do that or not. 49°C is 120°F.)
At times like this I find myself wishing that winter would come, as I generally tolerate cold weather better than hot. But then I checked the weather at the South Pole. Would I rather be there? Probably not.
The most recent post at The Hebdomadal Chesterton is on-topic.