Your cheeks will learn to appreciate the sweet, numbing relief of cool porcelain when they land on the bare seat. Hygiene is subjective in August.

2. Skip the Socks and Underwear.

Let every crevice breathe. Cotton traps heat. Elastic strangles freedom. Embrace chafing—it’s just a sign your body is fighting for survival.

3. Stay completely still.

Movement is for people with central air. Any gesture larger than a blink invites sweat. Be the statue. Become one with the laminate flooring.

4. Take hourly trips to the frozen section of the grocery store.

Stand next to the bagged peas, look lost. If someone asks if you need help, say yes—and point to your internal temperature. They’ll leave you alone.

5. Cry.

Tears are nature’s facial mist. If you’re dehydrated, don’t worry—your body will find a way to sweat out your sorrow instead.

6. Latch onto someone with a boat or central air.

You don’t need to love them. You don’t even need to like them. Just know what time they get off work and invite yourself over—or just show up unannounced. You can’t risk them changing their mind or getting ideas about “alone time.” Relationships are built on mutual benefit, and in this case, your benefit is 72 degrees and directional airflow. Bring a six-pack if you must, but remember: you’re not a guest—you’re a climate refugee.

7.  Accept dampness as your identity.

You’re not moist—you’re atmospheric. People don’t understand humidity couture because they haven’t suffered enough. Some people PAY for the wet look. You’re just ahead of the trend.

8. Lie to yourself.

Tell yourself it’s “not that bad.” Use mantras like “at least it’s a dry heat” even when it’s not. Reality is a luxury only the climate-controlled can afford.

9. Sleep on the floor like an animal.

Heat rises. Dignity can too. A tile floor and a paper-thin towel will be your mattress, your therapist, your truth. You’ll wake up sore, but vaguely less sweaty.