It is seriously 10,000 degrees here in Mersin at the moment. I am trapped in hell, sitting in my underwear right in front of my air conditioner which is about to pack it in under the pressure. It is trying to give me what I want. I need it. I want it. I feel like it is nearly there then – nothing. It packs it in. Someone came too soon and it wasn’t me!
Loyal followers of this blog (and personal friends) will know that I pretty much spend all my winter months whinging about the damn cold. I complained like a whingy feck. “I can’t wait until summer,” I cried. “I’m going to swim. I’m going to swim at the beach every damn day”. Well no I’m fecking not swimming in that cesspool that is the Village beach and no I am not taking 3 buses to get to the first clean beach outside of Mersin. Feck my life!
I definitely did not sign up for this kind of heat. This day in and day out never ending hell that is the Village in the middle of summer. You can’t go outside. The sun will turn you into ash. Armageddon heat. Fire ants on crack heat. I am thinking of spraying “Norsca” in my stairwell turning it into a Swedish sauna because that’s what it fecking feels like when I walk out my front door! Don’t get me wrong. I do make an effort to get out of the house. All the time but then I step out into the Swedish sauna that is my stairwell, my brain starts to swell, my shoes start to melt and when I come to I find myself lying on the couch watching an episode of Ellen – the same episode of Ellen. Very Groundhog Day. Am I going to be forced to relive this hellfire summer until I do it right, Groundhog style? I bloody hope not.
Incidentally there are a few shows here in English with Turkish subtitles but can someone tell me why I seem to watch the same show of Ellen every couple of weeks. It’s got those two extremely obnoxious little English girls “Fatty and Rosie”. I don’t know their names – wait I lie. The little blonde girl is named Rosie. She is the cute one that lip syncs or mimes. She is the one that won’t need therapy while the other one who I have called Fatty sings, or tries to sing. When she is older and realises how her parents have exploited her – she will definitely be spending her earnings in therapy. How is this entertainment? My mind tends to block it all out but they are on the show with Vince Vaughan who is probably trying to contact his agent to scream, “Why the feck am I on with these two fecking brats? How low have I fallen down the ladder of Hollywood power?” He is also probably wondering why he has never won an Oscar.
Back to my story. Yes the heat. Its fecked!
Too hot to sleep at night so I find that I have become a night crawler. I leave the house around 10 pm with My Hurley Dog (aka The Terminator) and we troll the streets, waving to people we know and hoping to not draw attention to myself to those that we do not (after all the heat does bring the crazy out in most people). It’s too hot for My Hurley Dog to walk throughout the day anyway. He would rather hold his poop in until November than go outside and poop with the hot sun beating down on him. I mean it, literally plug his butt than walk outside in this white scalding heat. He was not designed to live in this relentless, torturous, horrid heat. He has had yet another terrible haircut which he is totally embarrassed about. To top it off he was attacked yesterday by two – yes two – mamma cats who ganged up on him when he went over to congratulate them on the birth of their babies. Those bitches! The Turk was so angry that he threw a bucket of water on the mamma cats but missed and mostly the water landed on My Hurley Dog. I don’t think he minded though because it’s too feking hot!
Speaking of The Turk, he has taken to sleeping on the tiled terrace in his underwear. Daughter went out there a couple of nights ago to find him stark naked. She came running in shielding her eyes and squealing, “What has been seen, cannot be unseen!” Once I convinced her to not gouge out her eyes she returned to her bedroom to sleep. A new house rule is that the Turk will always wear his underwear now.
The only one of us to doesn’t seem to give a shit about the heat is My Kedi Cat. He no longer lives with us. He lives in the front garden or by the front door with Evil, only coming in to eat. He refuses to eat cat food and so I find myself cutting up pieces of steak or chicken to satisfy this bitch cat that I dragged all the way from Australia who hates my guts! My Kedi Cat spends his days being primped by Evil (his only love) and attacking other cats who venture too close to our front door. I sometimes see him when I am on my late night walk a couple of blocks away wandering around looking for something to kill. He ignores me though. Hate that cat!
So that is today’s rant. I am supposed to go downstairs and help make bread with the ladies. I don’t want to unless I can go down there in my underwear but The Turk vetoed that idea. Well if I cannot go down there in my underwear then I want to stay right where I am in front of my poor, groaning air conditioner until either it or I give up for good!
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