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Had a very Brooklyn morning last week when I went out to move my car to the other side of the road for street sweeping. We do this once a week, but on this day the car didn’t feel like starting. Five minutes before the sweeper comes not only is the car busted, we’re about to get a ticket for not moving it. Boyfriend calls the roadside assistance insurance peeps and I’m waiting outside while drivers honk their grievances  before passing. When the sweeper comes I explain and he actually says, Don’t worry about it. No ticket.

I sit in the car and read for the 10 minutes it takes the tow truck driver to arrive. The man gives the car a jump. While the car is about finished charging  another ticketing person comes along. Tow truck man puts his fists on his hips and, in a thick Brooklyn accent says, I’ll stand here so they don’t bust your balls. And they didn’t. The Andrew Dice Clay of tow truck drivers saved the day.

This weekend, I ran into the city and saw the coolest 90-something gal in the whole world. She wore a giant Bernie button on her Bernie shirt and was leaving Forbidden Planet with a bag. I continued on to Strand, wondering what was in her bag. Maybe a few comic books or maybe some freaky Asian zombie movies. We’ll never know.

From Strand it was off to the library to pick up my holds (free!) then home to work on my French on Duolingo (free!) then yoga (free!). On the walk back – running with library books isn’t fun – I picked up spicy hummus at Sahadi’s and then got lost. Going from my old neighborhood to current one, both of which are basically grids, I took a wrong turn and kept going. It’s really disorienting to look around and realize you don’t know where you are or how you got there. By the time I finally got back, I was beat. Still did yoga and French, but without the enthusiasm.

We went to the Bernie rally Sunday, sort of. Gates were supposed to open at 12, but Sanders didn’t take the stage till after 4. The crowd in line around us was friendly and diverse in age, though the parts of the line we saw were mostly caucasian.  We waited in line in the heat under full sun for nearly two hours then I felt gross, went home and streamed his talk online instead. I really wanted to see him speak – I changed my voter registration from Independent to Democrat so I could vote for him in the primary – but the heat is back and it is not my friend.

Last week, I thought I was on the ball. Got my taxes done a whole week early and booked our campsites for June and August. But I forgot about starting up the car every few days, got lost on my way home and stood out in the mid-day sun for over an hour (wearing a hat & sunscreen) simply because I forgot how sensitive I am to heat. Now I feel bad for busting my boyfriend’s balls every time he tries to eat a pear. How do you forget you’re allergic to pears?

I’m a sucker for any beat-the-heat tippy listicle, but none of them help. Granted our car is more than ten years old and has already earned the name Put-Put Mobile, but I’m hoping it’ll get us where we need to go in terms of finding a place to live, ideally where the sun don’t shine. Until then, I’m going nocturnal till fall.

Did you know the moon is drifting away from us at a rate of 3.78 cm a year?

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