So I spent most of the weekend outside and it was in the nineties. It seems like I should be able to handle that, but after about the mid-eighties, I just want to sit in the shade and snooze. When I force myself to do things in the heat, like I did a few weeks ago when I played polo at noon in 105 degree heat, I find that eventually I need to move into the shade so I don't vomit or pass out. Then I have to listen to everyone tell me how red I am.
Part of the problem is that I'm built to conserve heat. Short fingers, short extremities, short neck (or, according to my mother, no neck), long torso. These aren't exactly the measurements that are seen with runway models. At 5'5" I'm a pretty average height, but I routinely have to move the stirrups up to the highest notch when I ride. Sometimes the highest notch doesn't make them short enough and I have to roll the leather around the stirrup to take up extra length. If my mother wasn't such a virtuous person (aside from the no-neck crack) I'd almost believe she had an affair with an albino eskimo nine months before I was born.
Anyhow, this is the week I can put all my green waste out on the street for pickup, so I had to get all the pruning done. The ivy was trying to grow in the window, the wisteria was climbing the drain spout, and the oleander was pushing the fence over. Besides, if I don't cut everything back, the dog can find more places to hide in the morning when she doesn't want to come inside.
I spent the day alternately hacking at the plants and sitting inside drinking water. By the end of the day I was filthy and incredibly sore. My hands are still swollen from pulling at ivy, and I have a bruise on my chin where I managed to hit myself in the face with the lopper handles. I'll be lucky if I can get out of bed tomorrow.
But I didn't puke from the heat. Go, me!