Hot. Very hot.
We about to leave to go play pickleball on Friday."I'll just check the--oh my god, it's ninety-four degrees."
"What?" Eli 16.1 asked.
"Ninety-four," I said. "Also, it's only eighty-seven in Austin. That seems scientifically impossible."
"It's the apocalypse," he said. "The world is actually ending this time."
"Well, let's hurry, then," I said. "We may not have much time to play pickleball.
I'm not kidding when I say it must have been a hundred and fifteen on the pickleball courts. I haven't been that hot since we moved last year. My entire shirt was soaked through in sweat after playing for an hour or so.
The average high for last Friday in Michigan is seventy degrees, so we were twenty-five degrees hotter than usual. Brutal.
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