At the risk of sounding like a desperately drunk girl dialling her ex-boyfriend in the middle of the night begging him to come back to her, well …
Please come back to me.
I’ll do anything.
Please, just come back. Come back to me. Please oh please.
It is just way too fucking hot right now.
So here’s the thing: I cannot handle this motherfucking heat. This is the kind of heat that cannot be described without expletives and capital letters, and so: IT IS MOTHERFUCKING HOT, YOU GUYS. The temperatures have been in the high 30s for days now (that’s in Celsius; American friends, I’m talking about the high 90s in Fahrenheit) and there will be no relief until Thursday at least, if you want to believe the folks at the Bureau of Meteorology, and why wouldn’t you, they’ve been relatively accurate so far.
I DID NOT APPROVE THIS WEATHER. WHO APPROVED THIS WEATHER?
I mean, yes, I grew up in a country that is not only hot but also humid ALL THE TIME, and you would think that I would be used to high temperatures, and you would be dead wrong. You would be so incredibly wrong. I hate the heat. I hate being hot, period. Why do you think I left Malaysia in the first place? Okay, it wasn’t the main reason I left – I left to attend university and then never got around to going back home – but still. The climate was a reason – not an important one, but a reason nonetheless. I’m pretty sure I included it in my university application essay. Something about wanting to experience life in a country with four distinct seasons? Except I had zero concept back then of just how fucking hot an Australian summer can be.
Come back, Winter. Please come back.
I have been cooped up in my apartment almost all day now because it is just too hot to be doing anything outside, and while it was fun initially – I watched Annie Hall for the first time and took a nice little Sunday afternoon nap – I am now completely over it. I want to go outside but it is STILL too hot. I need groceries but it is too hot to be schlepping back and forth between my apartment, the tram stops, and the grocery store, so I’ve just been eating scrambled eggs and Doritos and Twisties and guzzling lots of water in the hopes that it will fill me up and remove the need for actual food. Besides, it’s too hot to cook proper meals anyway.
And I need to get out of the apartment because I am starting to have nonsensical conversations in my head about Magic Mike and how Channing Tatum’s face does nothing for me and how we could only ever have sex from behind as a result and JESUS GOD I HOPE NOBODY EVER THINKS THAT ABOUT ME … but like I said before, it’s too hot to go outside.
And I realise that’s a really mean thing to say about Channing Tatum. Um. Sorry, Channing. I’m sure you’re a really nice guy. You’re an awesome dancer! But … no.
So y’know, nonsensical mental conversations? Still happening.
I mean, this entire rant is a nonsensical conversation, right?
At least I’m not talking out loud to myself.
The sad thing, Winter, is that I know I can’t have you back just yet. You’re going to turn up when it’s time for you to turn up, and that means I am going to have to wait another three months at least. Which, frankly, is breaking my heart. It is also a relief, I suppose, because let’s face it: if you were to show up right this very second, we would all have bigger issues on our hands. If the temperature were to drop drastically to winter levels in the next five minutes, I would be very concerned about the end of the world being upon us. Because you can take the girl out of the religion she was raised in, but you can’t take the superstitions out of her. So, y’know, I’m going to be very concerned about the end of the world.
FINE, I WILL WAIT FOR YOU, WINTER.
If you need me, I am going to be sprawled out on my bed right in front of my fan. Because it’s the coolest spot in my apartment. Because it is too motherfucking hot out there.
My next apartment needs to have central air-conditioning. Just sayin’.
And Winter? I can’t wait for you to FINALLY turn up.
I was not lying about being sprawled out in front of the fan.