Sweatin' like a fat lass at a disco

Well it's glorious Golden Week. I have no work or school for a full seven days. And, blessed synchronicity, the weather turned really warm and fine the day the holidays began.
I have to make the most of it. Soon it'll turn all muggy and overpowering, and I'll be melting all over the path like an ice cream cone.
But right now it's just perfect. Imagine a rare summer Friday evening in Dublin. Home from school and changing out of your uniform, the weekend stretching ahead of you. Doors and windows flung open and the sun still up and shining. Mam pottering about watering plants in a summer dress (Mam in the dress, not the plants). And as Sally pads into Nana's room panting for air, you flop down on the couch, flick over to BBC1 just as the opening credits for Eldorado start to roll.
Well anyway, that's how the weather made me feel today.
On my earlier topic of sweat, though, I had to put and emergency red-cross request in to big sis. Can you believe I have nearly gone through all those deodourants I brought back at Christmas? I was sure they would do me a year. Damn my stinky armpits! And damn the Japanese for being able to make a microcomputer so small they can rest it on a pinhead, but not being able to market a roll-on antiperspirant/deodourant worth its aluminium!
PS Sorry if nobody was able to decipher my earlier summertime reverie - the aluminium from excessive grooming product use has clearly rotted my brain.