the temperatures climb to dizzy heights and the shade offers only a small reprieve--but i haven't had to water my outdoor plants cuz it has been raining so fucking much. on the days leading up to each storm, my coworkers complain of the humidity, making me wonder if they've ever visited a vast body of water.
upon arriving in this strange city, i balked at the many many instances of outside decorative water fixtures. how many gallons a day were dumped into it to keep the illusion of water-wealth? (don't i live on arrakis?) but as the storms proved reliable and not fantastical, my revulsion for the fountains and pools and misters has turned to guiltless pleasure. i home in on it, (as if it were) my one true purpose in life. i stare at fountains with the hungry lust. i walk underneath misters with reckless abandon. i pace perimeters of pools with absolute single-mindedness.
i do not know where the fat cat is, and he does not love water.