And cos it's 🏝️🍹⛱️🌞 🌊 in Northern hemisphere :

Embrace the irony. Go to the beach, sweat, then pay to freeze at home. 

The global warming special: 35°C outside, 18°C inside. 

The summer ritual is a masterpiece of self-defeating logic. We spend months dreaming of long, sun-drenched days, only to greet the first heatwave by complaining about the heat. We then flock to the beach—a giant, sun-scorched sandbox—to sweat profusely, all for a brief, tepid dip in the water. It’s an act of collective delusion, a voluntary pilgrimage into discomfort.

Then comes the real paradox: we return from our sun-worshipping escapade and, with a sigh of relief, slam the door, crank the air conditioning to arctic levels, and bask in the artificially cooled air. We burn electricity, contribute to the very global warming that makes our summers unbearable, just to escape the very season we claim to love. It's a grand, theatrical show of hypocrisy, a testament to our ability to crave one thing while simultaneously fighting against its consequences. In the end, we're not so much enjoying summer as we are trying to survive it, one overpriced mojito and one energy bill at a time.

If this is human intelligence, maybe the heat has just made us all a little heat-struck.