I spilled water all over the kitchen floor after work, and I just stood in it, trying to cool off. 

It was 92° in Los Angeles today. Everyone who knows me knows that I love heat. I don't understand people who live in Los Angeles, who've actually moved here from another place, and complain about the hot weather. I embrace the scorching days, the blistering sun beating down on my body, my face, making me sweat. 

But every year, I forget what it's like. Today I stood in my kitchen in a puddle of cold filtered water and wished it was cold still, if only until June. 

In my head: