It’s hot this summer, more than that, it’s humid. Which is another new experience I wasn’t ready for. And these new Melbourne summer days are like hand grenades waiting to go off.
The sticky heat builds and builds through the week. Gripping your skin tighter and tighter as it gets warmer. When the mercury finally rises above 40 Celsius the sky just opens up. Cutting loose an awesome torrent, one to rival the best winter can bring. Thick rain drops that just tear right through the thin linen shirt I put on that morning — it was light, breathable, and the best choice at the time.
(I don’t know what exactly causes it to rain when hot. It’s something to do with the air pressure. Someone explained it to me once but I think I was only half listening.)
On the days when I get home from work to these natural outbursts. I open the windows of my still stuffy room. Living on the second floor, the inside of my room it is like a kiln. No clay setting, just me sweating.
I open the two windows on the face of my wall. But they both open up onto a busy metro street. With a black tarmac strip paved slick with fresh rain I can hearing the recurring sounds of tires flinging water up and into their mud-guards.
I’m not sure if this is a sound I particularly like or dislike. But it is all that I’ll hear for the next few hours. At least until my room has cooled down into something sleep-friendly.
That night sleep will come easy, and perhaps the next one too. But soon enough the pressure will build again. Sure to erupt once more.
