“Could you get the garbage?”

He barely turned his head to look at her, a limp mess on the couch. “Can’t. Too hot.”

She looked at him, then outside. “It’s not that bad.”

“I’m melting.”

“Turn on the air conditioning then. And get the garbage.”

He groaned and slipped further and further off the couch and onto the ground. “If we had hard floors, they would be cold.”

“I suppose if you want to vacuum the carpet first, that can go out with the garbage.”

He did eventually get the trash. About midnight, when the world had cooled off a little.