The heat in New York City is all but unbearable this weekend.
Heat advisories have been out all weekend, with temperatures in the high 90s and humidity to match. Our little window-unit air conditioner in the bedroom (all that the wiring in our early 20th century apartment building will support) is overmatched; Carrie and I slept fitfully last night with our necks resting on icepacks, rolled up in dishtowels. (It helped a little.)
The unairconditioned bits of the apartment (everywhere else, basically - living room, kitchen, bathroom, etc.) are essentially uninhabitable after about 10 AM.
We have deployed fans on the floor to help keep the animals cool, and are replenishing their water bowls three or four times daily, often adding ice. They, no fools, are mostly hanging out in the bedroom, where it is at least barely tolerable.
Today, we're going to spend the hottest part of the day sitting in movie theaters. (I hope they've got industrial air conditioning and that it's turned up to 11.)
What are we seeing today? Well, as tempted as we might be by the genuine artistry and love of cinema that goes into major-studio Hollywood fare like Deuce Bigalow, European Gigalo, we're checking out a couple of indy movies at opposite ends of the politeness spectrum today: the family-friendly, heartwarming and wholesome (and G-rated) March of the Penguins, and the scabrously nihilistic and scatological (and unrated) The Aristocrats.
We'll work in a spicy Indian or Thai late lunch in between, try to stay hydrated, and hopefully by this evening things will have cooled off a bit.