For the past few weeks, it’s been extremely hot and humid here in Los Angeles.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s always hot this time of year, but the wonderful thing about living in an arid climate is that it cools off at night so, for a few hours, there is some relief. The important hours – when one is trying to rest without sweating like the proverbial whore in church.
It’s been so awful at night that sleep has been impossible – and not just for me.
Everyone on the crew (maybe the cast, too, but they have makeup) have black circles under their eyes and are downing coffee (iced, of course) as fast as they can.
It’s not just us, though. Tempers are flaring all over the city, as the police cope with near-record cases of cranky pants.
Excessive horn-honking, overly aggressive shouts of “points” when one isn’t carrying anything, passive-aggressive latte ordering, crafty grabbing*, scuffles over shaded parking spaces, crowded beaches,
Today, I snarled at a man in the grocery store for breathing.
No, really. That’s all he was doing. Through his nose, making that goddamn high-pitched whistle from hell.
I’ll kill him.
I mean it’s cooled off tonight and maybe I can get some sleep so I’ll feel less homicidal tomorrow.
Although I have a 4 pm call in northeast Bumfuck, so I doubt it.
*Those peanut butter cups are mine. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.