Writing a Snowball in Hell

At the moment it is, roughly, forty-kajillion degrees outside. With the air conditioner on in my apartment I manage to cool things off to the point where water only reaches a slow boil while sitting on my desk. Around one o’clock I can actually feel the heat beating in through the rather imposing blinds which cover my windows. Shirts are worn primarily as devices to move sweat around so you don’t feel too sticky. Upon stepping outside, one’s first reaction is to squint from the sun, one’s sec...