Deal with our apartments. Which don’t have air conditioning. Or fans. I mean, why should they? Most of the year we're rubbing up on our clanky old heaters to get warm. But without AC, on 80 degree nights, we cannot get to sleep.
Have sex. I tried. This morning. But at 70 degrees and 90 percent humidity in our apartment, my dude pushed me away like we were laying under a blazing Mexican sun. Too. hot. don’t. touch.
Wear shorts. Sure, many of us have the shorty shorts girls wear with tights, but as one friend put it on Facebook, you know you live in San Francisco when summer suddenly arrives and you don’t have any shorts that fit correctly. And skinny jeans do not make decent cutoffs. Not to mention many of us are paler than fog.
Ride BART. Seriously. It’s like having your sweaty face blow-dried by blasts of urine scented air that’s been heated by forest fires every time a train goes by.
Stay sober, inside. Have you looked at your Instagram feed? Where did all these outdoor tables at bars and restaurants come from? It’s just one endless stream of light brown and pinkish liquids being toasted in glasses like we’ve suddenly been transported to the coast of France (or Los Angeles).
Leave the extra layer at home. I mean, are you guys sure it's not going to get foggy later? Or a little windy? Just in case, I should tuck this little jacket into my bag.
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