It’s gonna be over 100 degrees again today. And probably tomorrow, and probably the day after that. Meanwhile, back in Moscow, Idaho it might break 80 degrees.
When I was told Arizona was going to be hot, I laughed it off. I thought I knew. I told people, “yeah, yeah, I get it. Arizona is hot. I’ll wear a tank top.” The fact that it was supposed to be 100 degrees didn’t scare me. It got that hot in the summer back home, especially in the Snake River Valley. This was going to be fine.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
As a child, when my mother always scolded me for not drinking enough water, or my dad sighed in disappointment every day I came home looking like a tomato, I would just chuckle and continue on my way. I loved the sun, and being in the sun, and all things summery and beautiful. The grass was green and cool, the blanket under me was warm and the shade from the trees created a collage of shadows.
That was summer. Maybe 80 degrees, and beautiful.
Not this sweltering pit of dust and rock.
Perhaps that was a bit unnecessary. I don’t actually dislike Arizona, so far. It’s basically a brown, hotter version of the late summers of my childhood.
However, the fact that I didn’t take my parents seriously as a child has finally come back to haunt me. The other day, I didn’t drink any water beyond the water I had in my coffee, not realizing that I did, in fact, need to drink water on days when it gets up to 112. So when I got back to my little apartment after work and plopped down, doing anything to decompress, I figured I would be fine.
Mistakes were made that day.
If anyone has ever passed out or fainted before, there is a very sickening moment right before it happens when you become terrified you’re suddenly going blind. Then your head feels all wobbly and your brain feels like it’s shrinking at an alarming rate.
Next thing you know, you’re waking up staring at the ceiling wondering how the heck you got there.
Well, that’s basically what happened when I stood up from my decompression session the other day. All I wanted to do was make myself dinner, but no. My poor water filter couldn’t filter water fast enough that evening.
Now, I know this was a silly mistake. Most people here know that I was being an idiot, and I’ll be the first to admit it. I should drink water and be careful when I’m outside, especially with my pasty white North Idaho skin tone. But until I moved here, none of this really meant anything.
I didn’t have to deal with any temperatures over 105, and that was way late in the summer when everything in Idaho has finally turned the natural color of Arizona. These heat exhaustion cases and rumors were things that happened to fictional people in other states, not me. Not until last week.
Needless to say, this Idaho girl is melting, but that might be the 20 years of freezing cold, northern winters finally thawing.