Whoa, sorry I got so cranky about whales last night, everyone. It was a lonnnng week.
The heat finally broke last night, and suddenly it was a full 30 degrees cooler than it had been the night before. It reminded me of one of my favorite Chicago memories: that last summer there, when we had that horrible week long heat wave, culminating in three or four days of 100+ degrees and humidity that sweated the posters down off our walls. M. and I were living in that crappy little apartment on Carmen, with only one air conditioner, and by day three of that heat wave that air conditioner was making no difference. To breathe was to sweat. Blinking was an exertion. But all week the weatherman kept saying “the storms are coming, the storms are coming;” thunderstorms were supposed to finish off our heat wave and turn the moisture in the air into rain. Finally one afternoon, waiting for the bus on North Avenue, I could see the black clouds rolling over. One moment there was a cool breeze—the first in ages—and the next a clap of thunder like the sound of a vessel cracking. The rain started instantly and the seven or so people waiting for the bus with me broke into cheers, applause and laughter.