My first thoughts about my prompt-I wonder if it’s more politically correct to say the dregs of summer instead of the dog days?

 I feel like I’m in a sauna bath, as though my whole body is crying and those tears are soaking through my underwear. I don’t know if it’s fair to compare the hot flashes I get with a woman going through menopause. We don’t have air conditioning in Santa Monica and I have forced my husband to leave the vertical blinds open—praying for any breeze to sneak into the bedroom. Thankfully I am not feeling the heat from his 79 year old swimmer’s body. When I get up to urinate halfway through my slumber, I feel like excreting the water from my bladder and will prevent further sweating. As I return to bed, I stop at the siding glass door and soak a fragment of the sea breeze. By the time I return to the damp sheets, my body has cooled. My usual energetic mornings have fallen through the cracks. It takes a half hour to get to my speed machine creative output. I’ve been brewing my ground coffee slowly to get the full benefit of caffeine-sweating out the toxic climate change.