It’s hot already. I had to clear a path through the shrinking pile of boxes so the super will be able to get the air conditioner from the closet over to the window tomorrow afternoon. Until then, I’m wetting the cats down to keep them cool and going through all the moving-in motions oiled with sweat.
Although North Carolina summers are brutal, you do not really experience this (unless you work outdoors) because effective central air conditioning is universal. Just another way in which appearances are deceiving and New York City is more of a natural environment (you could almost say Stone Age) than many much greener places.
I have only to close my eyes to be transported back to the fire escape of my first, East Village apartment, trying to cool off in the evening, overlooking the Puerto Rican grandfathers sitting on the sidewalk on folding chairs in their sleeveless undershirts, fanning themselves. All that’s lacking is 43 years and the soundtrack: