the hottest day of the year so far

The hottest day of the year so far. This doesn't impress me as I have a stinking cold. My sinuses are blocked and I have that stuffed feeling behind my eyes. Worse, I have become a "mouth-breather". My nose is totally useless for inhaling. It is make up by doubling it's exhaling. I sneeze, in sets of four, every ten minutes and it is permanently (look away now) running (sorry). My mouth is dry, permanently dry. The heat, combined with the breathing, means that I have to permanently sip liquids. This annoys me, in that way that stupid things can annoy you, because I want to be dehydrated! In my mind (in my mind) I am convinced that if I am dehydrated my nose would stop running - hey, I didn't say that colds made me an intellectual!

The hottest day of the year so far and Maria spends the day spring cleaning. I come home to a clean house (no dust to irritate my nose - oh, hang on, still going to sneeze a lot!) with all the windows open. The house is cooler than outside and, probably, smells wonderful. I can't tell.

The hottest day of the year so far and it is draining. This has been the longest week, topped off with a Friday meeting after school. A meeting that goes on for two hours. This cold has really taken it out of me, this week has really taken it out of me. I just want to go to bed and sleep but the kids are here. Also there are 'foreign' kids in the house, Dani has brought two friends home with her. There is no way I can go to bed. I drag my body, wearily, through the rest of the day, until nine when everyone goes home. I want to go to bed but we haven't eaten. Maria prepares me a chicken, tomato, and noodle soup and we collapse in front of the television. An episode of Gilmore Girls. Ten minutes into the second episode I can't stay awake anymore. I announce that I'm going to bed.

The hottest day of the year so far and I go through my "going to bed ritual". Television off, DVD off, computer off, balcony door closed and locked, front door closed and locked. I'm leaving all the windows open, it's the hottest day of the year so far. Thanks to my cold my ears have popped. I'm living in a world where all the excess noise are being filtered. As I turn the lights off and move towards the bedroom Tijuana sounds quiet - quiet for Tijuana and positively morgue like for Tijuana on a Friday night. No car noises, no sirens, no gun shots, no mariachi music, no karaoke. The only sound is dogs barking. Lots of dogs barking. I'm no expert on dog counting, when only hearing them bark, but I would put the number at more than fifteen but less than fifty - let's go with lots. There are lots of dogs barking. And then the neighbour's dog, downstairs, joins in. So there are lots of dogs plus one barking.

Me: Can you hear all the dogs barking?

Maria: I'm getting pyjamas and putting them beside the bed.

Me: Pardon?

Maria: I'm getting my pyjamas and putting them beside the bed.

Me: Yes, I heard you. I'm just not sure what you are saying not what you are saying. I'm ill aren't I?

Maria: I'm getting pyjamas and putting them beside my bed because I don't want to be the one, crazy, woman running round the street naked.

Me: Again. I hear what you are saying but I'm not sure I understand what you are saying.

Maria: There is always one, crazy, woman running round the street naked and I don't want it to be me. Oh god, I hope that it isn't the woman from number two. It would be just like her to be the one, crazy, naked woman running round the street. And, let's face it, if there is one woman I don't want to see naked, it's the woman from number two.

Me: I'm lost. Did I blackout in the middle of a conversation? What the fuck are you on about.

Maria: I need my pyjamas beside my bed so that when we get up in the middle of the night and run outside I won't be the one, crazy woman running around naked.

Me: Nope. Still not computing.

Maria: Can you hear the dogs?

Me: Errrr, yes. I think that is how the conversation started.

Maria: Why do you think all the dogs are barking?

Me: Ok, you've got me there. Is it something to do with 101 Dalmatians?

Maria: Nope. Earthquake. All the dogs are barking. What do you think the first warning of an earthquake is? And, if there is an earthquake, I'm not going to be the one, crazy woman running round the street naked. I love you. Goodnight.

Me: I love you. Goodnight.

It's the hottest day of the year so far. I have a stinking cold. I am tired, really tired. Shattered. Five minutes ago I thought I couldn't stay awake to save my life. I realise that, as a statement, that is probably the most incorrect I have ever been. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to lots of dogs (plus one) barking. I reach out from under the covers and check that my pyjamas are still there, on the floor, beside the bed. I wonder if I should put them on now. I don't want to be the mad foreigner running naked in the street.

It's the hottest day of the year so far and I sleep fully dressed.

Comments

[Nancy]

Keeping up with conversations like that should really help you stave off Alzheimer's. I'm sure it's better than crossword puzzles or Jeopardy.

[Croila]

EARTHQUAKE? WTF? And you can SLEEP??!

If the earthquake don't get you, sounds like the cold will :-(

[Vanessa]

Course you can sleep. Just nervously, thumbsucking, clutching at the PJs, etc.
Here, dogs barking depends on the day; if it's Tuesday, it's shamans trying to curse you.