It's the tongues of flames lapping at your feet. Northfield made like Shadrach today and journeyed into the furnace. At the zenith nadir most hellish moment, at around 3:30 this afternoon, the heat index was 116. The fricking-fracking dewpoint was over eighty.
That's not right. Nor was it right that I avoided taking a shower. There just wasn't time until 10 p.m., and then why bother?
It's even more wrong that tomorrow is supposed to be hotter.