It's a cliche of every cheesy science-fiction movie (and before that, when there were lifeboats instead of lifepods, every hair-raising tale of the sea as well):
The life-support system on the starship is failing, and everyone crowds with their loved ones into a "lifepod," where the atmopshere and temperature range conducive to human life can be maintained.
Here in New York City, we're havin' a heat wave, a tropical heat wave. The heat index (heat + humidity) is clocking in at 119 today, and in our fourth-floor walkup, it's about ten degrees hotter than the ambient air temperature at street level... meaning that the *actual* indoor temperature is hovering around 105.
Around 11 AM, the Chow Chows, Mister Gato, and I piled into the bedroom (the one room in the house with air conditioning), turned the AC on low so as not to overtax the straining electrical grid in the City any more than absolutely necessary, and hunkered down. (I'm hoping that an additional sixty watts for the MacBook's power supply won't tip the island of Manhattan over the edge and create a wave of brownouts.)
The animals are blissfully asleep; I am getting a lot of work done; we are all drinking a ton of cold water and staying hydrated. Carrie is out at the Greenmarket right now, having just had lunch with a friend (brave woman!) but will be piling into the Lifepod as well on her arrival home.
As long as the AC X 2 (alternating current and air conditioning) holds out, we will be all right.
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