I'm gazing longingly into the depths of my fridge - not because I'm hoping to discover something to eat (I already know I'm going to starve today unless I go to the supermarket), but because I want to climb in.
I've got the aircon and the ceiling fan on - forget global warming - but I'm still overheated.
A few days ago, checking the weather around Australia, I was feeling quite smug. Every state capital city bar mine was struggling with temperatures in the high 30s or even, in a couple of cases, low 40s. Sydney, meanwhile, was a balmy 25C - perfect conditions for a dip in the ocean but not so hot as to stop you leading a normal life.
Now the joke's on me. As I write, the mercury has just hit 41C and it's forecast to reach 43C before the afternoon is out. Last time I was this hot, I was in the desert outside Abu Dhabi. But this is inner-city Sydney and the only camels are a pair of porcelain knick-knacks in a local antique store.
As for an oasis: well, that's how I ended up at the fridge.