The Hot, Hot Heat

Yesterday, I helped friends who live on the third story of a three-story house move their stuff down to a moving truck. I started out helping in the kitchen—packing boxes, organizing. It is always oddly unsettling to me when I’m asked to help pack and sort other people’s things. Even items as generic as kitchen goods seem intimate. I feel responsible for creating rhyme and reason in the boxes. Packing up someone else’s things is something I do not like to do.

I was happy when I was able to switch gears from packing to hauling. I constructed three wardrobe boxes (I’d never seen these before, but they’re a great idea—cardboard boxes with metal racks so you can haul your hanging clothes in an orderly fashion) and proceeded to take trip after trip up and down the stairs until all of the hanging clothes was safely secured within the boxes.

The stairs were steep. And narrow. The day was hot. I was there between 2 and 6 pm. After I’d been moving clothes for half an hour, I ran into my brother-in-law (who had been moving heavy furniture down the stairs since before I arrived and who was soaked through with sweat), and he said, “I see you’ve caught up.” I looked down and saw that my blue tank top was a darker, sweatier shade of blue. I had obviously noticed the sweat dripping down from my hairline, but I hadn’t noticed the shirt. And I hadn’t noticed my legs—they were slick with sweat. There were pieces of lint and hair stuck to them that the sweat had attracted and held onto.

This all sounds gross, and I can’t say that I didn’t have moments of feeling somewhat miserable, but there is also something exhilarating about heavy sweating. It feels like a release, like a cleansing. I was sure to drink a lot of water to replenish myself, but the sweat made me feel in an odd way clean. (Smelly, but clean.)

I went home at 6 to walk Phoebe the dog so my older brother (who usually walks Phoebe, as she’s his dog) could stay and continue the move. Phoebe couldn’t stop licking my legs—they must have tasted so good and salty.

After the walk, I took the best kind of shower, using chilly water and an extensive lather to wipe away the grime. Afterward, I felt tired and happy.