Making Me Hot (In A Non-Romantic Health-Based Context): Part 3

only tales

And on Saturday, I awoke to the hum of my air conditioner doing its very best to keep me adequately chilled. I’m rather like a very expensive, refrigerated egg. I need a layers of soft padding, plenty of sitting time, and a cool, dry climate to relax in–that is, before I’m made into an omelet dead.

Within the confines of 621 City Econo Lodge, everything was fine. Cool air, a board that was being passed as a mattress for sleeping, and plenty of anime-style X-Men cartoons (that are CLEARLY for adult eyes only! Kids these days). Out there, however, the rabble of city life was much too rabbled for my delicate constitution. Also, I shouldn’t have to explain the mind-numbing, skin-melting, egg-frying heat of this tropical prison.

I felt a lot like the hapless vaguely-German Nazi in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Except less Nazi-y and more annoyed. At this…

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