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It’s gettin’ hot in here. And only my fast depleting cultural sensitivity keeps me from stripping naked and running through the sprinkler.

It’s not quite DC in August “OhmigodIcamsmellthetouristsrenderingintheirownskin” nasty hot but it’s getting there. It’s only mid May and it's already the nasty dry heat that makes your eyes ache as soon as you open the door and leaves everyone rasping like the morning after.

And I put off doing inventory until now…

“OK, head out to the car park and check that all the cars are still there.”
“What… really? We ride in ‘em everyday. It’s not like they’re gonna jump the fence and start a new life on a Tuscan farm.”
“Go. Go now. ”

And five minutes later I’m on my knees in the black gravel searching for the office serial tag attached last year somewhere on the frame. I’m scorched through my jeans and thrashing at the omnipresent flies with my head under the car only lead to the early stages of concussion. Thankfully the flies distracted me from the ants who had methodically worked their way up into my delicate places.

After attempting to chase off the rising heatstroke with coffee (doesn’t work), while cataloging broken printers, I found out that our security team has been working in an un-air-conditioned office for the last eight months.

“Why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“Didn’t want to complain”

- If I respond to that I could get shot - they whine constantly and with the dedicated manner of professional whingers. Except about things that would bring their invulnerability in question.

Thirsty? Wounded? De-fenestrated? No use crying, mate.
Nothing on TV? You’d think someone shot the cat-who-shall-not-be-harmed.

It’s getting hot.