I am currently standing in my kitchen, drinking ice water, my laptop perched on top of my toaster oven. I’m not writing this at my desk because the only fan I have is in my kitchen– I use it as an exhaust because I don’t have a hood over my tiny stove, which is in my tiny kitchen, which is in my tiny studio apartment. My windows face west and I can see the 10 freeway and the Staples Center sign. I am so thankful that I no longer have to sit through the traffic from work to my old apartment in El Sereno. I hate using air conditioning and I hate traffic and the combination of all that hate and frustration nearly drove me insane last year.
You worry me. I know that whenever the weather gets hot like this, tempers also seem to burn more quickly, more explosively. During the sudden heat wave a couple of months ago, I was sitting at my window writing one night and I heard some yelling that made me anxious. There was a sound that could have been someone being hit, and I had no idea where exactly it was coming from, only that it was from some people in my building. I had to gulp down tears from worry for the people in the argument, and I felt so damn helpless.
I hope that it’s not that kind of summer.