Wednesday was the hottest day in San Francisco’s recorded history — 105 degrees. I wore a sun dress to work and worried about the cat being alone in the hot apartment all day. Fortunately, the com room at work had three fans, all of them going. Stepping outside was like stepping into an oven. I drank a lot of water. The radio talked all day about rolling blackouts, sunstroke, hydrating pets. When I got home that evening, the cat staggered out to greet me, happily drunk with the heat and determined to cuddle. That night we slept nude again. At 3:00 am the fog finally rolled back in and I woke up cold and pulled the blanket over both of us.

Ah, sun dresses. I loved sun dresses in my youth, but there were few opportunities to wear them in San Francisco. Somewhere in the back of my closet they still hang, silken, colorful, but no longer flattering at my age.