Fish eyed, sweaty and worked up like a cat with an agitated tail, I fell out the doors from work yesterday afternoon. I wasn’t sure that I’d remembered everything I was supposed to do but the Friday-to-be-weekend mood called and I allowed myself to skip the part of thinking too much.
Well outside, I realized that the lingering pressure of sweatiness I had been experiencing the greater part of the day wasn’t the result from some hormone malfunction or the result of bad ventilation, because it depended on the outside climate. It was moist. Like a lake side just after a rain storm kind of moist. Like I imagine the tropics feels like, but in the city center. In Sweden. In September.
I squinted across the town square while hurrying past it. Why is it so hot? All the cheeky summer lovers waves their mental colorful flags and asks me why I’m pouty, it’s so LOVELY with all this extended summer! Oh, don’t get me started please. Instead of enjoying the torment, I group up with the trees that have started to change their coloring, preparing for an autumn that is supposed to sweep across the nation soon. The weather services promises temperatures of 20C/68F for another week. Let’s hope they’re wrong.
I’ve have autumn clothes and stuff that needs to be used! They’re just lying there, waiting for me. The burned orange nail polish, the boots, the scarves, all whispering my name. Sometimes I go by them, stroke them lovingly and whisper back, “Soon, soon”.