Hot Stuff in San Pancho

Beach vultures eye my broiled flesh hungrily.

Beach vultures eye my broiled flesh hungrily.

I’m feeling homicidal again. I detailed my descent into heat-induced madness last year around this time, so I won’t go too deeply into it now, except to say, it’s freaking hot. Hotter’n blazes, hotter’n Hades, hotter’n Lucifer’s ass. I stagger down the beach, over sand that feels like hot coals. The sun pushes me down to meet the infernal hand of hell that rises up to pull me into its fiery depths. I pass a committee of vultures, eyeing me hungrily, tongues slightly extended as if tasting my broiled flesh already. How do these vile bastards look so cool?

An under dog takes cover from another hot dog.

An under dog takes cover from another hot dog.

I rinse three times a day, but the cold showers aren’t cold enough. Within minutes of drying off I’m wet again (as George Costanza once said, “It didn’t take.”). Yes, there’s a pool, there’s even the ocean, but they’re both so warm it feels like diving into sweat. My hair sticks to the back of my neck and I’m forever peeling off my shirt like wet wallpaper. Even the lizards are irritable.

Even surfers throw shade on themselves.

Even surfer dudes throw shade on themselves.

Electricity is expensive in Mexico, so we use the A/C sparingly, even though Bill tells us, “Don’t worry, be happy!” So when it’s all I can stands, I can’t stands no more, when the dogs, tongues lolling, eyes glazed over, gape at us as if to say, “You think you’re hot, you bare-skinned bitches, we’re wearing fur coats here! What are you, pet-sitters or sadists?”, we all trudge into the bedroom, flip the switch and chill. We’re all happy, for an hour or two. Then we’re forced to reopen the oven door of reality and carry on with the rest of the day.

Well, nobody was using it...

Well, nobody was using it…

And it’s not just us pasty-faced northerners having a literal meltdown. Even the locals gripe (ever wonder why everybody complains about the weather but nobody ever does anything about it?), and reasonably so. Yesterday the heat index topped 118 F. Humidity 93% I watch my sweaty back for any signs of my neighbour’s own murderous urges. Until I remember the studies that say 90+ temps are too hot for cold-blooded killers. The heat has saved my life. Hooray. Give me A/C or give me death.

4 thoughts on “Hot Stuff in San Pancho

  1. You think this is hot? Wait til next month. Just kidding. This is August-type weathe and we’ve had it since June. We’ve also only had one inch of rain, back on July 2. So there’s been no relief from the heat. It’s a good idea to not have the pets on the beach these days. Just take of your sandals to see how it feels. Now if your dog has a fur coat and sandals…

  2. Well written Robin! I could feel the heat and frustration! Meanwhile after a three week drought on Vancouver Island, we were about to go to the social event barbecue of the summer and it poured rain non stop all day and all evening. BC folk are hardy! Put up the tents, don the rain coats, rain hats and get the umbrellas, pour the wine. A good time was had by all!

    Joanne Hill

  3. Thanks for the comments, everybody! And, like some kind of freaky rain dance, last night, right after I’d posted this, we had a fierce thunder and lightning storm that brought buckets of rain — and cooler temps. For now…

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