I never loved the heat in LA and its other attendant miseries, like having the 105mm heels of my favorite Manolos sink into the asphalt of the Burbank studio lot where I worked on days when the mercury hit 102.
But at least it was, as they say, a dry heat. And I could count on the temperature dropping at least 10 degrees as I headed toward the coast, and another 20 at night.
Not so here in the city of swelter. Cassie doesn't get it either. She woke me up at four a.m. today with loud panting and all the symptoms of imminent heatstroke. So I put cold water and icepacks on her, and despite how much I hate the things, I'm getting an air conditioner so I can take better care of her.
If only the Steampunk Workshop would make one for me.