Do you remember that feeling that you (maybe) had as a child, at the end of a very long, very hot day at an outdoor pool? I’m thinking of the slow burn that happened after hours of deep diving and cannonballs, when you were sitting in the backseat of a car in only your bathing suit, smelling of chlorine and paba-free coppertone, with a towel shoved under your butt to block the heat of the split leather upholstery and the seatbelt metal. The afternoon seemed infinite and sluggish, the sun cutting through the trees barely hitting the ground, as if it was simply too lazy to make it all the way to the sidewalk. It was this odd mix of overheating and hunger and lightness and total exhaustion and the oven-baked admission that you had used up all your juice for the day, in a good way. Jokes and headaches and snocone breath and the anticipation of delivery pizza waiting at home.
Don’t know why I got all Jungian, but this is the closest thing to how I feel today.
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