That's a metaphor, innit. Our house, with it's thick walls and insulation, has taken many days of hot hot hot to heat up. The house has been a blessed oasis of cool surrounded by the shimmering heat haze and too blue skies of the plains of summer. The house has been shade and cool drinks. The house has been our safe place, our retreat, our relief.
The house has heated up.
It's going to be above 35 degrees for the next week, except for an exceptionally chilly 31 on Sunday. I don't think our thick walled, well insulated house will be cooling down any time soon. Tomorrow I am purchasing some Rid, because the mosquitoes outside are something fierce, and I refuse to stay inside after dusk after today.
I was really, really afraid of the cold here in Canberra. Ha, I say, and again, Ha. I laugh disparagingly at the cold from the inside of my fluffy coat and beanie. I disdain the cold. Or at least I would, if I wasn't trying as politely as possible to invite it back as soon as it finds it convenient to visit.
I am worried about my very old Grandpa in Melbourne's hot hot hot and hoping he shifts a camp bed into the air-conditioned living room. I wish we could all fly to Scandinavia for a few days.