The Hottest Day Ever

At work we paint strategically, braving the not-quite-yet-ridiculously-hot sun in the morning, then switch to the shade after lunch before we die of dehydration and sun stroke.

We talk about the most efficient use of A/C indoors. I rave about my basement.

I put a rag under my hat to shade my ears and face and am called “the Prince of Egypt.”

Frank’s shoes fall apart. No one blames the sun.

At lunch our boss brings us all slurpees—thank you!—but they don’t last very long.

In the afternoon I see two teenage boys walk by with large freezies. Fifteen minutes later they walk back the other way with slurpees.

On the way home the bus drives right past us without stopping, making the wait 40 minutes instead of 15, but I don’t care because I’m sitting in the shade—shade is my new favourite thing in the world.

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