A while back I resolved to feel time and my life more carefully by seriously apprehending deep-cold winter days rather than rushing through them as mindlessly and quickly as possible. Made some progress with it.
Turns out heat-wave days (esp. after the first one) are more of a challenge. Always think back to the summer of 1977, my first in Cambridge, when I realized that somehow I had never truly appreciated how rarely it gets humid as hell in Montana. My bed and pillows came first. Then a kitchen table and a chair. Next was the biggest fan I could carry to the apartment.